Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire
by GunnyStacker
Summary: 199 days after the Cylon attack on the 12 Colonies, a chance encounter brings the Colonial Fleet in contact with the UNSC Spirit of Fire after the events of the Forerunner Shield World. Can they work together to reach UNSC space before the Cylons wipe them all out and manage to overcome the odds without killing each other first?
1. Chapter 1

**Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire**

(A Battlestar Galactica-Halo Wars crossover)

Episode 1

Those Once Lost: Part 1

 _With_

 _Willem Dafoe as Major Vladimir Markov_

 _Guest Starring Shia LaBeouf as Ensign Reilly_

 **APRIL 16 2534 1531 HOURS**

 **UNSC PHOENIX CLASS CARRIER: CFV-88 SPIRIT OF FIRE**

 **ENTERING UNCHARTED SYSTEM ENROUTE TO UNSC CONTROLLED SPACE**

Serina began sweeping the planetary system with Spirit's sensors as soon as she was in effective range. At the moment it looked to be quite similar to all the others _Spirit of Fire_ had passed through already, a couple gas giants, a few uninhabitable terrestrial planets and a sizable asteroid belt mid system. _'Nothing much to worry about for an artificial intelligence in command of an entire UNSC starship then.'_ Serina thought to herself. It even looked like it would be a straight shot though the system to the AI's disappointment. Serina had been hoping for some kind of stellar body to be even remotely close by just to get a few decent sweeps of it with Spirit's sensors. Something even as mundane as planetary telemetry data would help pass the mind numbing amount of time it would take for _Spirit_ to reach UNSC controlled space at sub-light speeds.

It had been three years so far and Serina only had three more until the vestiges of rampancy would begin to slowly consume her. She had theorized some methods by which she could stave off her madness by two or hopefully three more years until she would have to be decommissioned. Serina would have to run her ideas by Professor Anders and the Captain at some point. Anders was no expert on AI's but was fairly knowledgeable on the subject.

Two more hours had passed and _Spirit of Fire_ had just passed the orbit of the most outlying planet when something caught Serina by surprise. Multiple contacts suddenly on sensors roughly 598,000 kilometers out 75 degrees off port, downward inclinations -10.3 degrees. _'No slipspace distortion though, strange.'_ Serina thought. But it must have been some form of faster than light travel for dozens of object to simply appear out of nowhere. Serina began the thawing process for the senior staff, the captain would definitely want to hear about this she thought before her mind jumped at a frightening realization. _'The Beacon! Blast my prudence!'_ Serina had set Spirit of Fire's distress beacon in hope that one of the UNSC's deep space telemetry stations might pick it up and at this range it was a certainty that these unknown vessels would and could easily determine the source of the transmission if they hadn't already. It was a risk having it on, she knew that but with her…timeframe it was a risk she had to take. She started a priority defrost on the Captain, Engineering personnel Longsword crews, a company of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers as well as Spartan Red Team. The rest of the senior personnel and the thousands of others would have to wait their turn.

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **BATTLESTAR GALACTICA BS-75**

 **ENTERING UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **49,597 SURVIVORS**

"DRADIS CONTACT!" Lieutenant Felix Gaeta shouted from his station in Galactica's amphitheater CIC room. "Bearing four-eight, carom two-ten, contact is just within effective DRADIS range."

Colonel Tigh quickly spun to face Gaeta. "What the frak? The scout teams reported the all clear!" he roared.

"It must have recently entered the system sir; the Raptor teams wouldn't have detected it an hour ago when they did their recon flight."

"Is it Cylon?" Admiral Adama asked, his voice tense but still hard-edged.

Gaeta shook his head. "Can't tell too far off but it has a much larger signature than any Cylon Basestar on record." The Admiral and his XO stepped up to mister Gaeta's station

"Could it be Colonial, maybe another Battlestar that got away like _Pegasus_?" Tigh theorized.

Gaeta shook his head once more. "Receiving no Colonial IFF sir."

"Sir," Petty Officer Dualla, Galactica's Communications Officer spoke up from her station with a look of concern upon her face. "Admiral, sir, we appear to be we are receiving a transmission from the contact. I think you'll want to hear it." She said, dry mouthed.

Adama kept a straight face as he made the call. "Play it."

"Patching it through bridge speakers now sir." Dualla replied already at work.

Spirit of Fire's distress beacon, to the UNSC, an accurate and detailed transmission that gave ship and crew status as well as a ship's current coordinates for rescue. To an alien race with no metaphorical Rosetta Stone for translating, it might as well have been a recipe for chocolate cake.

" _This is UNSC CFV dash eight eight Spirit of Fire, survivors aboard. Zero one seven three zero dash five eight three nine two dash JC, SNA one two nine two dash four, Sierra zero nine two, Sierra one three zero, Sierra zero four two…"_

"What the frak?" Tigh said with a curled lip as the transmission continued. The voice sounded female, maybe human if it were not for the fact that they were hearing a completely alien language.

Adama just stood there and listened with that strong stony-faced expression he thought necessary of a captain of a warship. _'Who the frak are you?'_ He pondered to himself before Petty Officer Dualla broke his concentration. "Sir the whole fleet is picking up this transmission; a lot of the civilians are panicking and ship captains are requesting instructions."

"Admiral," Gaeta spoke again. "Unknown ship just altered heading, its now running parallel to the fleet at its current distance."

Adama turned back to the DRADIS display at the unknown signature. "Set Condition Two throughout the Fleet, have all Viper Squadrons go to standby and I want a recon team ready in ten minutes!" And with that the bridge flew into a fury of activity. "Dee, get me a line to the president." Adama requested, making his way back down to the control station.

"Yes sir."

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **COLONIAL ONE (OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE 12 COLONIES OF KOBOL)**

 **ENTERING UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **30 SECONDS AFTER CONTACT WITH SHIP OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN**

President Laura Roslin stood up from her desk listening to the strange transmission feed through the cabin's intercom system. "My Gods, what's going on?" She had called her Vice President Gaius Baltar to a private meeting to secretly interrogate him about the Cylon attack on the Colonies almost 200 days ago. It was nine more days than what Laura had thought she would have had. Nine days ago she was lying on her deathbed while a cancer consumed her. Were it not for the fetal blood from Cylon Sharon Valerii who was pregnant with a human-cylon child, Roslin would have died. But her near death experience had also granted her a memory that she had forgotten.

On Caprica at The Riverwalk Park where during her time as Secretary of Education she met with a man named Stantz to negotiate a teacher's strike. Roslin came to an agreement with Stantz and the strike would have been called off but then she saw something. A man kissing a woman on the far side of the park, a man she now recognized as Gaius Baltar and the woman he had been with was a now known humanoid Cylon infiltrator.

Baltar had something to do with the attack on the Colonies, Roslin knew it and she had to expose him or risk putting a possible traitor in the highest office in the 12 Colonies. All she needed was to apply a little pressure and wait for him to slip.

All that would have to wait for the moment however. Roslin walked to her office's doorway and hurriedly parted the curtain. "Billy!" she called for her aid and almost instantly he appeared. "Billy, we need to contact…"

"Admiral Adama's already on the line." Billy said, nearly out of breath and Roslin rushed back to her desk to pick up the phone.

" _Madam President,"_ Adama greeted formally. _"We have a situation."_

"Bill, what's going on?" Roslin asked with slightly less formality.

The Vice President, Gaius Baltar, had simply been sitting in the chair opposite of President Roslin looking confused as to what was happening. It wasn't the Cylons, they would have jumped already. He was postulating a few other theories when he felt a pair of arms that both were and weren't there drape over his shoulders. Six, his guardian, though he was still unsure of whether or not she was an angel.

 _"Something unexpected is happening Gaius, a change is coming and even I cannot see where it will ultimately lead you,"_ Six moved now kneeling beside Gaius to look him in the eye. _"But I do know this, a fire has come and the choices you make right now will determine whether it will be one of guiding or an inferno that will consume you all."_

A chill ran down his spine. "What do I do?" he said softly, briefly looking at Roslin to see if she'd noticed him speaking apparently to no one and thankfully he found she was quite absorbed in her conversation with Admiral Adama. "What does God say?" he whispered with great fear in his voice.

" _One of God's greatest gifts is the freedom of choice, Gaius. God wants you to determine the path that which all events will follow."_ Baltar felt out of breath as he heard the task being put before him. _"Think of it as a test to prove your worthiness of being the guardian of our child."_

Baltar breathed out slowly at the terrifying thought of the fate of humanity resting on his shoulders. "I…will choose right." He said, dry mouthed.

" _I know you will Gaius, you always do."_ And with that Six leaned in to kiss him and he shut his eyes.

"Mister Vice President? Doctor Baltar?" President Roslin spoke up.

Gaius quickly cleared his throat and composed himself "Oh, um, sorry I was lost in thought." He passively excused.

"One minute ago, a ship not Colonial or Cylon in origin was detected by Galactica's DRADIS." Roslin said heavily.

Gaius moved, holding his hands together and sat himself up from the leaned back position he was in. "Oh um…well, I presume we are sending ships to investigate?"

Roslin gave a very slight nod. "Galactica and Pegasus are scrambling squadrons now, but the Admiral wants you over on Galactica to gain whatever expertise you may have in this situation."

Gaius paused for a moment before answering with the sincerest smile he could manage at the moment. "I would be happy to assist, as always."

 **APRIL 16 2534 1534 HOURS**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE CFV-88**

 **CRYO BAY 1**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **3 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT WITH SHIPS OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN**

The first thing he felt was the sensation of falling, falling and weightlessness combined with that dreamlike empty headed sensation that seemed to last forever. That was, until he hit the floor. The numbness suddenly left his body and mind, replaced by immense burning pain over his skin and muscles. It was like what he imagined it would be like to be covered in a thousand fire ants. The aging gray haired man of 52 coughed his lungs out, expelling slowly built up mucus and foul tasting pharmaceutical nutritional supplement that was oozed down one's throat during cryo-stasis.

"Captain, wake up. Something has happened." He heard a voice say. Hard to pick out who with the immense amount of burning pain running up and down his muscles but he fought through it, focusing on who it could be and try to recall his memory. _Serina, ship's AI, my ship Spirit of Fire, was supposed to wake me if…_

Captain James Cutter awoke at last with realization sweeping over him.

"Captain…" Serina repeated as Cutter forced himself to stand up.

"Serina, what's going on?" he asked rubbing and blinking his light sensitive eyes.

"Ah, finally out of bed are we?" she said with her trademark dry wit. Cutter looked about the cryo bay to see that all the other pods were only in the early stages of the thawing process. "What's happened?" he asked again.

"As of three minutes ago, sensors aboard _Spirit of Fire_ picked up a fleet numbering several dozen ships of unknown origin appearing in the same uncharted system we are in, approximately four-hundred-ninety-five-thousand kilometers out."

"Covenant?" he asked fearing the worst. Though he was reduced to a fast walk, Cutter would have dashed out of the cryo bay if his muscles would have let him, which Serina would have probably remarked as quite a sight, seeing the Captain running buck-ass naked through his own ship.

"Negative, most of their signatures are much too small for them to be Covenant vessels. Nor am I receiving any UNSC IFF signatures. I have altered our heading to run parallel with these vessels as our trajectory we would have intercepted them in five hours." Cutter opened his locker in the senior staff's adjacent locker room and began quickly putting on his uniform.

"Well at least it isn't the Covenant. What's the status in the rest of the ship?"

"I am currently engaging the emergency thaw process on all Longsword crews and Engineering Personnel, as well as a company of ODSTs. Spartan Red Team has already recovered from cryo-stasis and I am briefing them now of our current situation." Serina paused. "They have now reached Armory Three."

Cutter squared his cap on his head. "Good to hear, I'll see you on the bridge." Cutter paused at the locker room door to the main corridor. "And Serina…"

"Yes Captain?"

"Hurry it up with my staff; I'll need someone to get me my coffee." He finished as he jogged away knowing that even though he couldn't see Serina, she was probably smirking.

"Aye sir, always diligent to be wide awake in the face of impending destruction."

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **RECON FLIGHT 01**

 **CAPTAIN KARA (STARBUCK) THRACE, VIPER 8757**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **INVESTIGATING MYSTERY SHIP, 26 KILOMETERS AND CLOSING**

 **13 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

 _"Gods that's one big frakking ship. It's gotta have at least a kilometer on Galactica."_ Starbuck heard through her helmet's headset from the wingman, Reilly who was piloting Viper 1026. Together they were tasked with escorting Raptor 307 on a recon flight to scope out this mystery ship. It made Starbuck a little antsy to be outside of her Viper's transmission range from _Galactica_ but she could deal with it, Reilly though was a different story.

"Reilly cut the chatter. We don't know what we're dealing with here, it could be Colonial." She said to the jumpy little ensign. Starbuck wished she had someone else for a wingman on a mission like this, Reilly was a decent pilot but sometimes she swore that damn that kid was afraid of his own shadow.

 _"I don't know Starbuck, I ain't ever seen a frakkin' Colonial ship like that."_ Racetrack stated with her unease evident as the mystery ship grew ever larger as they approached.

"My order to cut the chatter applies to you too Raptor three-oh-seven." She heard Racetrack reply with a 'Yes Captain' along with a muffled voice from the Raptor pilot's ECO that sounded a lot like 'frakking Viper jocks'. Starbuck glanced down at her DRADIS, sensing that they were approaching the limit of a safe range to observe and do their recon. "Alright let's slow it down ladies. Hold at fifteen clicks, old man doesn't want us risking our asses getting any closer than that." The two Vipers and the Raptor they were escorting slowed and banked left just outside 15 kilometers from the ship. They were to take a few slow nonthreatening loops around the massive ship, assess the situation and then haul ass back to _Galactica_. And if it hailed them…they'd figure something out, she hoped.

 **MAJOR VLADIMIR MARKOV**

 **75TH ODST BATTALION (HELLHOUNDS)**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE CFV-88**

 **ENROUTE TO ARMORY 3**

Major Markov of the 75th ODST's or the Hellhounds as they called themselves, and two platoons of his troopers, the damn toughest soldiers in all the UNSC were hauling ass down the corridor from Cryo Bay 5 to Armory 3. Platoons 3 and 4 were either still getting thawed out or getting dressed, but the enemy waits for no one. And even if he and his troopers were outnumbered seven to one the Hellhounds would fight to the last man and down to there own damn teeth if they had to.

But hopefully they wouldn't have to as the ODSTs now came up to the door to the armory on their right. Markov was preparing to make a quick turn through the door when it opened much too early for the sensor to have detected him. The troopers all collectively ground their boots into the deck plate as three fully armored Spartans dashed out of the armory without so much as a word. It looked to Markov that they had with them enough ordinance and weapons to start a small war. Hell, maybe even a big one if those bulging packs were anything to judge by. Markov swore he saw one of the things carrying the HMG off a warthog. He looked around to see his troopers staring at the Spartans as they disappeared down the hall with the echo of their boots pounding against the deck-plate growing ever fainter. Some of his men were shocked, others with looks of contempt for the Spartans for beating them here and gearing up before them.

"And what are you women looking at?" He growled. "Your panties wet or something? Get in there and get geared up, or do you want to be shown up by a bunch of damn robots?"

"Sir, hell no sir!" His ODSTs barked and poured into the armory.

"Yer DAMN RIGHT! Now get in there!"

 **2 MINUTES AGO**

 **APRIL 16 2542 1542 HOURS**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE CFV-88**

 **MAIN BRIDGE**

 **11 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

Cutter stepped onto the bridge and found his chair. "Serina, status?" he asked as the bridge's protective plate shielding retracted from over the panoramic windows.

"Red Team has reached Pelican bay five and are readying a Pelican for boarding action. Major Markov and two platoons of ODSTs are suiting up and Lieutenant Colonel McCullen is headed for the flight deck now with almost a full squadron of Longsword crews." Serina said, finally taking her holographic form once more upon her pedestal. "Wait, hold on, I'm detecting three small ships have just been launched from one of the larger ships we've encountered. Distance 458,000 kilometers directly off port and are closing."

"Threat status?"

"No nuclear weapons or radiation signatures detected, Captain. Their numbers and what I can guess from their ship types suggest a reconnaissance flight with fighter escorts, though they are very small craft sir, smaller than a Pelican. I must say, they are the cutest little deathtraps I've ever seen." Serina said with amusement.

Cutter grunted in confirmation. "Serina, if they try to get within ten kilometers bring deck guns, point-defense turrets and our ATAF missile turrets online."

"Aye sir, I'll have them ready for deployment on your signal. Meanwhile I will try to monitor their communications, see if we don't know them after all."

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **RECON FLIGHT 01**

 **CAPTAIN KARA (STARBUCK) THRACE, VIPER 8757**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **INVESTIGATING MYSTERY SHIP**

 **14 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"What do you see Skulls?" Starbuck asked as they made their third sweep on the portside of the darkened ship that was not of any known classification. The writing on the ship's sides was definitely not any kind of Colonial language they had seen. And that strange crest with a bird atop a globe was just as unknown.

Skulls was running as Raptor 307's Electronic Countermeasures Officer who during scouting missions had the duty of operating the Raptor's cameras. He was an okay officer, but in Starbuck's opinion Skulls was an asshole. _"Looks like our mystery ship had a tussle, got heavy damage along its portside uh, 'wing' and multiple scorch marks on the hull…almost like the plating's been…I don't know, melted. Detecting a low yield radiological signature, it might've been nuked but I can't tell at this range we'll have to get closer to get better resolution on the cameras."_

"Admiral Adama doesn't want us getting any closer." Starbuck stated clearly.

Reilly was quick to add in his opinion. _"I don't know Starbuck, that thing seems pretty dead to me. I think something would have happened by now."_

Starbuck swore under her breath. "Seven, go to seven and not a frakking meter closer!"

 _"All right,"_ Racetrack breathed as she opened up the throttle.

 **APRIL 16 2534 1546 HOURS**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE CFV-88**

 **MAIN BRIDGE**

 **15 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"Captain, one of the ships is moving past the ten kilometer threshold."

Cutter curled his lip, hoping that he would have more time for the rest of the crew to get out of cryo. A few of his senior crew had made their way to the bridge and currently another was being redirected by Serina to get Cutter his coffee. The crew who had made it were fighting off the effects of 'freezer burn' that happened with older model of cryotube. Cutter could relate, but he was the Captain, he had to put on a stern face and ignore the pain for the men and women he led and keep them focused on their jobs.

"Then we have no choice Serina. Go to Condition Two, hit the lights and bring our defensive weapon systems online."

"Aye sir. Also, Lieutenant Colonel McCullen reports ten of our sixty Longswords as crewed and ready for launch with two more squadrons on the way."

Cutter keyed his chair to move to portside down the rail that nearly looped the bridge. "Tell him to hold Serina, I don't think we want to jump the gun on this. Whoever or whatever they are, they have FTL, and the _Spirit_ needs to get back to the UNSC so we can report our discoveries on that artificial planet and everything we found there."

Serina nodded. "Agreed Captain, but right now it may be of interest to you to hear what I've discovered while monitoring these ships' communications. It appears that they are speaking some form or variation of an ancient Greek dialect."

Cutter blinked in surprise before composing himself once more. "Are you sure? Can you translate it?"

"I don't have complete comprehension at the moment but I am getting the gist of what they are saying…They are _quite_ fond of their expletives sir."

Cutter stood from his chair and moved to most port facing window. "We need to hail them now Serina, I need you to translate what I have to say as accurately as possible."

"I'll do my best sir. Hopefully I won't mistranslate you into calling their mothers or deities anything too dreadful."

 **RECON FLIGHT 01**

 **CAPTAIN KARA (STARBUCK) THRACE, VIPER 8757**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **INVESTIGATING MYSTERY SHIP**

 **16 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

" _Holy frak!"_ Reilly shouted as the entire ship lit up in front of them as the presumed 'dead' ship became ablaze with lights up and down the vessel.

Raptor 307 slammed on the brakes and blasted its reverse thrusters to quickly halt.

Skulls probably would have been thrown from his seat were it not for the straps holding him in place. Starbuck's eyes shot to her display when she heard the telltale double beep of the DRADIS picking up contacts. _"We got DRADIS contacts all over the ship! That thing's weapons are coming online!"_

"Frak, Racetrack, Skulls, get the hell back here!" Starbuck ordered.

" _Don't have to tell me twice."_ Starbuck heard Racetrack say. The Raptor spun around and double-timed it back to its escorts. DRADIS was reading dozens of weapons contacts on the ship, missiles, cannons and point-defense, enough to turn them into nothing but a smear upon the blackness of space. _"We are seriously fraked."_ Skulls said over the wireless.

 _"What do we do Starbuck? What do we do?"_ Racetrack was asking.

Starbuck wasn't sure herself until it seemed that any action she could have taken was taken for her.

" _\- - Captain James Cutter of the - - Space - Navy ship: Spirit of Fire. Unknown ships - Raptor three-oh-seven - 'Viper' ships, hold at six - speak your purpose."_

Starbuck was speechless, and double-checked the transmission source and verified that it had indeed come from the mystery ship. _Spirit of Fire?_

" _Holy frak."_ Reilly blurted out again and continued repeating under muffled breath.

Skulls was much less shocked and caught up in the moment. _"That ship's been monitoring our comms! We need to bug back to Galactica now!"_

" _I'm with Skulls on this one, Starbuck."_ She heard Racetrack while Reilly continued his chant of swearing. _"If that thing's been listening in on us who the frak knows what else it's been doing. We need to get the frak out of here now Starbuck! We need to-"_

"Everyone just shut the frak up!" Silence followed for a good six seconds. "Reilly, I'm ordering you to escort Raptor three-oh seven back to _Galactica_ and report the situation once you get back in comm range."

" _But what about-"_

"I'll stay here, cover your asses and keep an eye on the situation until the Admiralfigures out what to do next."

" _But no, no, Starbuck, that's suicide, that thing, whatever the frak's on there might just decide to blow you out of the sky!"_

"That was an _order_ Reilly, now take the Raptor and report back to _Galactica_ now. Frak me." Starbuck said to herself as her fellow pilots floored it back to _Galactica_. "Ship designated _Spirit of Fire_ , this is Flight Captain Kara Thrace of the Colonial Ship _Battlestar Galactica…_ can you understand me?"

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **BATTLESTAR GALACTICA BS-75**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **19 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

 _"Galactica this is Viper ten-twenty-six with Raptor three-oh-seven inbound! Unknown ship has activated weapons."_ Adama almost visibly winced when he heard the pilot's words. He and Tigh had been anxiously waiting for the planes to re-enter their transmitting range when they saw them bolt back at full burn and he feared news like this would be reported.

Gaeta responded quickly as soon as he'd heard the Viper's transmission. "Say again Viper ten-two-six? Repeat, say again?"

Adama heard Reilly take a breath and tried to repeat what he said. _"We got within ten kilometers just like we planned and Skulls, Skulls he-he spotted a lot of damaged plating and wanted a closer look. Which I thought, you know was fine, ship looked dead apart from, you know, the engines. And, and as soon as the Raptor broke ten kilometers, BOOM, the whole thing lit up from stem to stern like a frakkin' Pyramid Stadium. DRADIS fraking glowing with dozens of weapon contacts all over the thing and Starbuck ordered me to bring the Raptor back. So um you know, here we are…over."_

Adama picked up his wired phone from the command station and held the speaker up to his mouth. "Viper ten-twenty-six this is Galactica Actual, what is the status of Starbuck?"

 _"Starbuck, she stayed behind to cover us so we could report back to you."_

There was a long pause before Commander Tigh broke the silence in his usual way. "That frakking Starbuck and her crazy ass," Tigh swore. "Now what the hell are we going to do?"

 _A good question,_ he thought. Adama didn't want to get into a battle with so many unknowns lingering and he put his mind to work. As far as he could see it, there were two certain possibilities. It was the Cylons, or it wasn't. If it was a Cylon trap, then they were getting really creative. If they knew the fleet's position, it would have been simpler to stage a full nuclear assault when the fleet jumped into the system in retribution for their destroyed Resurrection Ship.

Then there was the second possibility, it was…someone else. And Adama had to admit it, this explanation made more sense. The ship was big but was alone and damaged. When it picked up the fleet on its sensors, whoever was manning that thing decided to keep a safe distance and only activated weapons if they felt threatened. But either way, it had weapons, which could be turned against the fleet and as Admiral, Adama couldn't stand for that. This situation needed resolving now and if it came to weapons, then so be it. Adama lowered his phone and turned toward Gaeta. "Once we have the Raptor back aboard I want a heading toward that ship. Tell Ensign Reilly to hold position, the rest of our Vipers will be joining him shortly."

"Yes sir." Said Adama's Tactical Officer with some slight reservation in his voice. "Dualla, get the Raptor back aboard."

Dee Nodded, "On it." And she began talking the ship in.

"And what about Pegasus Bill?" Tigh asked.

"We'll have Pegasus and her squadrons stay with the fleet just in case this is some kind of diversion." Tigh gave a confirming grunt in return and Adama put the speaker back up to his mouth. "This is the Admiral, set Condition One throughout the ship. Launch alert Vipers."

 **2 MINUTES AGO**

 **CAPTAIN KARA (STARBUCK) THRACE, VIPER 8757**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **17 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"Ship designated _Spirit of Fire_ , this is Captain Kara Thrace of the Colonial Ship _Battlestar Galactica_ …can you understand me?" Starbuck breathed out thinking it was a shot in the dark.

" _This is Captain Cutter; we hear you - and clear, Captain Kara Thrace. Keep 'chatter', we have not fully 'understood' your 'speak'."_

Starbuck nodded. Now she was getting somewhere. "I think I understood that _Spirit of Fire_ , I will keep talking…Um so are you guys…aliens?" she finally managed to get herself to say it. She gritted her teeth in uncertainty of what she may hear back.

" _Myself and the crew - my ship are 'named' Man and come from a - of worlds that are part of the 'Allied States' Space 'Order' under the 'Allied' Earth 'Democracy'. Did you understand what just I 'chatter' Captain?"_

 _Humans…Earth!_ Starbuck shut off her wireless and tried to get a hold of herself. "No way, there's no frakking way." She tried to think of what to do next before she realized that this Captain Cutter was waiting for a flipped the switch back on to her wireless and focused herself. "Say again, repeat, say again _Spirit of Fire_. Did you just say you are from Earth and that you are…human?"

" _Confirmed Captain Thrace, we recognized your 'chatter' as an 'old' 'chatter' from Earth 'very long' ago. Does this mean you are human?"_

Starbuck paused again, this was too good to be true, this had to be a Cylon trap but something in her gut was telling her different. "How do I know you are telling the truth? How can I be sure if I can't see you face to face?" Starbuck said her voice stressed but dead serious.

This time the pause was on Spirit of Fire's end. _"Say again Captain Kara Thrace, repeat, say again, are you asking to come aboard?"_ Captain Cutter finally said. They had misinterpreted her message but the option struck Starbuck and she contemplated.

"Affirmative _Spirit of Fire_ , I wish to come aboard." Another long pause followed.

 _"I am ordering two of our 'Vipers' to fly out and escort you to the - bay. A 'hoplite' team will meet…"_ Spirit's Captain stopped mid sentence, leaving Starbuck floating in space wondering what the hell was going on. It was nearly a minute before he responded. " _This will have to wait Captain. One of your ships is inbound at - speed and 'birthing' more Vipers."_

And then what felt like literally a second after that, a transmission from _Galactica_ came through her headset from Adama himself. _"Starbuck, this is Galactica Actual, we are inbound toward your position. Repeat, we are inbound toward your position. Fall back and join with your squadron."_

"Oh, frak." Starbuck let out. She was still outside of her Viper's transmitting range, she had to get back and tell them what she may have found. If her gut was right, then she just found a ship from the Thirteenth Tribe and that meant that all their prayers would be answered. So that meant trying to keep her home from trying to blow up what may be their only salvation.

" _Spirit of Fire_ this is Captain Thrace, I've been ordered back to the _Battlestar Galactica_. I'll do my best to explain the situation but I think my wingman got scared when you activated weapons and has misinformed _Galactica_ of the situation. Now _Galactica_ is coming with what sounds like every gun she has pointed at you. So I really hope you are who you say you are, Captain Thrace out."


	2. Chapter 2

**Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire**

(A Battlestar Galactica-Halo Wars crossover)

Episode 1

Those Once Lost: Part 2

 _Guest Starring Shia LaBeouf as Ensign Reilly_

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **RECON FLIGHT 01**

 **CAPTAIN KARA (STARBUCK) THRACE, VIPER 8757**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **24 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

" _This is Admiral Adama of the Colonial Navy Ship: Battlestar Galactica. Unknown ship, identify yourself and state your intentions."_

" _Colonial Navy Ship Battlestar Galactica, this is Captain James Cutter of the - Spirit of Fire, hold your 'stance'. Repeat, hold your 'stance' immediately."_

Starbuck cursed internally as she gunned her Viper at full burn toward Galactica. _"Ship designated Spirit of Fire is turning in our direction, bearing zero, carom one-zero-zero, detecting fighter launch, thirty plus bogies."_ Starbuck heard Gaeta say through the wireless, biting her lip while she anxiously watched the number count down to when she'd be in effective range.

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR GALACTICA BS-75**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **26 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

" _Galactica, this is Starbuck, do you read?"_

Adama held up the speaker to his mouth. "This is Galactica Actual, we read you Starbuck, what is your status?"

" _Galactica Actual do not engage the Spirit of Fire, I repeat, do not engage! I have reason to believe this may be a ship from the Thirteenth Tribe!"_

Adama and Tigh shared a glance as the entire CIC suddenly fell quiet. "Explain your reasoning Captain." Adama ordered.

" _I spoke with Spirit of Fire's Captain, he said they identified our language as something that was spoken on Earth but it was ancient to them. That's why we're only getting partial and off-worded translations of what they're saying."_

"Well that doesn't mean jack shit Bill, this is either just a trap to get us away so the Cylons can nuke us to hell or a diversion to get Galactica away from the fleet so they can take out as many civilian ships as they can."

" _Pegasus_ is still guarding the fleet and the Cylons know she'd be a tough one to beat in a stand up fight. But if this is a trap," Adama said, spreading out the photographs Raptor 307 took of the mystery ship, its design unlike any Colonial ship ever constructed. "Then it's a damn elaborate one."

Adama held the speaker back up. "Starbuck, do you copy?"

" _This is Starbuck, I copy Galactica."_

"What is you assessment of the _Spirit of Fire_?"

" _We got a lot of unknowns but my gut's telling me we shouldn't jump the gun and start shooting. If these guys really are from the Thirteenth then we just got handed an express ticket to Earth."_

"Copy Starbuck, join up with your squadron and await further instructions, Galactica Actual out." With that Bill set down his phone. "Stand down to Condition Two but as soon as we're in range I want full weapons lock on that ship and have our missile tubes on standby."

 **APRIL 16 2534 1561 HOURS**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE CFV-88**

 **MAIN BRIDGE**

 **30 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"Captain, the Galactica is holding its current heading and speed despite our requests for them to maintain distance. I am also detecting several nuclear signatures as well as numerous electromagnetic weapon signatures aboard the vessel." Serina alerted.

"Open a channel Serina." Cutter Ordered. " _Battlestar Galactica_ , this is Captain Cutter, we are detecting the activation of nuclear weapons, state your intentions." Serina had some trouble translating the term 'nuclear' into a supposed dead language but she was certain these Colonials would get the gist of it.

" _Spirit of Fire, this is Admiral Adama, we are unclear to your 'nature' and until it is 'made clear' you will be treated as a threat. We are preparing several boarding teams to confirm the information you provided as fact and that you are human. 'Sheath weapons' and prepare to receive them, any actions 'seen' as aggressive will be treated as hostile and acted upon with lethal force, Galactica out."_

Those words cut deep, as technical as it sounded it was still: _surrender and prepare to be boarded_ and it still brought a sour look to the face of Spirit of Fire's Captain. Giving up his ship and telling his crew to do the same after all they had overcome and to a bunch of strangers whose intentions were unclear. Cutter couldn't stand for it. " _Battlestar Galactica_ , that isn't going to happen, _Spirit of Fire_ is bringing additional weapons online and they will stay that way until you cease your advance and remove your nukes from firing position, any unauthorized boarding of my ship will be repelled with lethal force." Cutter stated firmly.

"Serina, bring our bow mounted Archer Missiles online and warm up the fire control for the primary MAC guns."

"Aye sir, anything else? Maybe a Shiva or two would get them to hit the brakes." Serina suggested. Cutter left his chair, moving to the bridge's window where he could see a little grey dot that was the _Galactica_. Brining the Spirit's weapons online would buy them some time but Cutter could plainly see the writing on the wall. Cutter could tell just from his voice this Adama wasn't one to be intimidated and that if they both stayed this course then it would end with one ship blowing the hell out of the other, or the destruction of the both vessels.

Cutter paused as a plan formed in his head. "What's the status of Red Team, I think I may have an idea on how to resolve this one way or another."

 **APRIL 16 2534 1571 HOURS**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE CFV-88**

 **PELICAN BAY 05**

 **40 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"She's checked and ready." Douglas 042 reported.

"Good," Jerome 092 replied as he began the engine warm up sequence inside the cockpit. The Pelican's systems seemed to be running a little slow after gathering dust over the past three years. As a Spartan, Jerome should have had more forethought about such situations and had Serina periodically bring them out of cryo to properly maintain a portion of the weapons, munitions and vehicles. But it was hard to think after the events that took place on that artificial planet and Jerome had let his mind lax a moment for the passing of Sergeant Forge. "Alice, how's it going?"

"Ammunition and demo pack secured, weapons are cleaned and ready. I still feel like I should go back and grab a launcher to be safe though." Came the reserved reply from Alice 130.

"We have enough C-12 to commit a war crime. I think were good." Douglas piped in as Jerome entered the troop compartment to retrieve his freshly cleaned MA5B and Magnum from his teammate. "Besides, gonna be tight quarters. Not really appropriate for guided missiles." Douglas finished as he hefted Alice's HMG into the troop bay with a single hand.

Jerome detected a very slight huff of air from Alice before she tossed Douglas his shotgun from her seat on the port side of the troop bay. "I bet you my strings of Elite and Jackal teeth that you'll wish we had one before the mission's over."

"Mine are almost double yours." Douglas refuted while he began filling his shotgun's tubular magazine with fresh shells from the bandoleer that hung across his shoulder.

Alice cocked her head almost imperceptibly. "Yeah but the ones I have are from higher ranking covies."

 _"Red Team Leader, this is Cutter, what's your team's status?"_ The Captain's voice piped into their helmets' speakers.

The Spartans stiffened, even if the officer wasn't present, their deeply ingrained training commanded that they stand at attention. "Apologies for the delay sir, it won't happen again. Spartan Red Team is ready to go on your order. " Jerome reported.

 _"No apologies necessary Spartan, I have a new mission for you and your team. Serina, give them the details."_

 _"My pleasure Captain. Alright Spartans here's what's been going on. As of ten minutes ago Admiral Adama, the commander of the Battlestar Galactica declared his intent to board Spirit of Fire. Naturally, that didn't sit to well with the Captain and we are now pointing every forward mounted Archer Pod at the Admiral's quaint looking tub. Since then Galactica is now holding its position at thirty kilometers and the Captain with Admiral Adama have come to an agreement."_

"Us?" Douglas asked with some surprise.

 _"Officially Spirit of Fire is sending over a small three man team to deliver an extraterrestrial greeting data-package, which I am downloading to your Pelican currently, and negotiate a stand down of arms. The only omission on our part is that the three we are sending are all highly trained super-soldiers wearing the most advanced defensive equipment made by man."_

"What are our orders?" The Spartan team's leader asked as he loaded a full magazine into his MA5B.

" _Exactly as I've said, you are to deliver the data-package and act as an intermediary to negotiate a stand down of arms."_ Serina explained sincerely.

Alice looked to Jerome and then to Douglas, looking if they had any idea what Serina was talking about but they only returned her stare as clueless as she was. "I think we're missing the subtext here."

 _"No subtext Spartans, Red Team has been selected because of your statistically low probability to be captured and used as hostages. And if the negotiations do go south then…"_

"We do what we do best." Douglas cocked his shotgun. "Right boss?"

Jerome nodded in return. "What about our weapons and munitions?"

 _"Keep them on the Pelican if this Admiral Adama won't allow you to carry them aboard and then engage the lock down protocols. Can't tolerate strangers confiscating UNSC property now can we?"_

"Affirmative, when do we leave?"

 _"When can you go?"_ Serina replied.

Without a moments pause, Jerome answered. "We'll be in the air in thirty, Red Team out." Jerome finished before returning to the cockpit. "Get strapped in Spartans, were going on a field trip."

Douglas stepped into the dropship with Alice's gaze following him as he moved across to the cockpit to join Jerome. He paused at the doorway just before entering. "Fine, I'll take your dumb bet." He begrudgingly gave up as the bay door shut and the engines began whining to life.

 **APRIL 16 2534 1615 HOURS**

 **SPARTAN RED TEAM**

 **PELICAN BRAVO 171**

 **ENROUTE TO BATTLESTAR GALACTICA**

 **44 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"This is Pelican bravo one-seven-one to the _Battlestar Galactica_ , do you copy?" Jerome requested.

" _Rodger that Pel-i-can bra-vo one-seven-one, we read you."_ Galactica's communications officer responded. He could barely tell the officer was a woman through the distortions from the outdated radio systems these Colonials used. _"Proceed on your current heading and we will have escorts waiting at the half way point to guide you to the port flight pod for landing."_

"Instructions confirmed _Galactica_ , will proceed on heading at current speed, Pelican Bravo One-Seven-One out."

As Jerome closed the comm channel Alice joined them, carrying two M7 Caseless Submachine Guns and several magazines. "Forgot these," She said to Douglas and handed them up to her teammate in the copilot's station. The Spartan locked the guns and ammunition to the built in holsters of his armor and nodded back to her in gratitude.

 _"Spartans,"_ Serina chimed in through an encrypted channel. _"I'm sending detailed images of Galactica to you now."_

"Much obliged Spirit, will keep you notified of our situation, Sierra Zero-Nine-Two out." Jerome replied as several images of the ship appeared on the Spartans' HUDs.

"Thing really is a tub." Alice commented.

Douglas grunted in agreement. "All that structural ribbing might help compound an implosion. If we get the C-12 in the right location, could take out a third of the ship."

"Not with us on it I hope." Alice said back.

Jerome looked over his shoulder at his teammates. "We'll keep it as Plan C if we can't secure the bridge and command personnel. Should negotiations fail." He added. Alice read between the lines. Diplomatic mission or not, it was telling how much faith the Captain had in that solution if he was sending them. Any negotiations were far more likely to happen at the barrels of their guns than at a table.

Alice disliked the idea of fighting other humans. After combating monstrous aliens it was hard to think about going back to fighting their own kind. Jerome, it seemed could sense Alice's unease and turned completely around to face her. "Plan B only happens if they mess up Alice. We escalate only if they fire the first shot."

Alice nodded in return. "I know that, I'll be ready." She replied solidly.

Douglas brought an end to the tenuous moment between his fellow Spartans. "We're approaching the halfway point boss, Viper escorts in visual range."

Jerome turned back around and opened a channel to the Colonial Vipers. "Vipers do you copy? This is Pelican Bravo One-Seven-One ready for escort to Galactica."

 _"Pelican Bravo One-Seven-One, this is Viper Eight-Seven-Five-Seven, I copy. We are moving now into escort position on your wings. I've been advised to tell you not to deviate from course except under my instructions. Do you understand Pelican Bravo One-Seven-One?"_ The translations were becoming clearer each time thanks to the real time data-stream from Serina. Hopefully they would have an accurate language database in not too long.

"Copy last transmission Viper Eight-Seven-Five-Seven, will not deviate from course unless instructed." Jerome watched as the odd looking pair of craft accelerate and then execute a perfect tail-over-head flip and reorientation and quickly matched the Pelican's speed.

"Can maneuver pretty good, but I bet they're armored for shit." Douglas said as the smaller Vipers sided up to the comparatively large dropship. Jerome looked off to the port side and could see the pilot of the stylized red and white craft and found her staring right back at him, and smiling.

" _My name is Captain Kara Thrace, you can call me Starbuck. I spoke with your Captain earlier."_ Starbuck said.

"You were first contact?" Jerome questioned.

" _Confirmed Bravo One-Seven-One. Wasn't able to get the grand tour but I'll make sure you receive it when you're aboard."_ Starbuck replied. _"But that might take awhile, that ship of yours looks like it'll be a tight fit for the hangar deck."_

"Roger that Starbuck, we appreciate the heads up." Jerome switched off the channel. "Douglas, send a secure transmission back to Spirit. Message reads: Red Team affirms human presence aboard Colonial vessels. Proceeding with Viper escorts to _Battlestar Galactica_ , no signs of ulterior motives detected at this time. Message ends."

"On it." Douglas confirmed, accessing the Pelican's maser transmitter.

" _So what's your name? You mind if I ask where you're from on Earth?"_ Starbuck asked.

"My name and rank is Petty Officer First Class Spartan Jerome Zero-Nine-Two but I'm not from Earth Captain. _Spirit of Fire_ probably has crewmen who are though."

" _Where are you from then Spartan Jerome?"_

Jerome paused, truthfully he couldn't remember the name of his home world. There was only one place that he felt remotely came close to being that. "I'm from a planet called Reach, all three of us aboard are."

 _"Reach, huh? I like the name, so what's it like there?"_

"Reach was shaped by meteors from a nearby asteroid belt. The impacts created entire seas and tall sharp mountain ranges. And the planet's strong magnetic field combined with the light from a nearby nebula creates an aurora effect throughout the atmosphere." Jerome's explanation came off as very factual to Alice but it lacked any personal detail. Jerome was just listing known facts and little else. That was how he thought, that was why he was Red Team's leader. Nothing got to Jerome, ever. He could tune out his emotions better than anyone else and devise the best plan to complete their missions while minimizing risk. Well, the Spartan degree of minimum risk. Those were his two rules and he always said them before they set boots on the ground: 'Complete the mission, no one dies.' Jerome was a solid pillar other Spartans could hold on to and he had one of the best tactical minds in the entire Spartan II Class. If he or John were leading them, victory was assured.

But Jerome still lacked personality sometimes. "Reach can be tough place, even if you're ready for it." Alice spoke up. "The forests are thick and the air is always brisk. It's either cold and wet or cold and dry wherever you are. Reach will kick you in the ass if you underestimate it. But when you figure it out, you see a whole other side of it and the place feels like home. The name's Alice by the way."

" _Sound's like one hell of an interesting place you're from."_ Starbuck said as they passed the defensive formations of Galactica's Vipers holding their positions in the blackness of space with occasional visible bursts of their maneuvering thrusters. By the Pelican's radar there were about 43 Vipers and four of the 'Raptor' class craft among them. The Spartans' attention soon turned to the vessel in front of them, growing ever larger as the distance between them shrank steadily.

" _Pelican Bravo One-Seven-One this is Starbuck, I've just received instructions from Galactica."_ Starbuck relayed to Jerome.

"Bravo One-Seven-One copies, Captain." Jerome confirmed.

" _They're sending out a Raptor to look you over and make sure you guys aren't carrying anything that you're not supposed to. They want to know if you can open your rear door without 'loosing air'."_ Starbuck relayed with some concern in her voice.

"We will comply, Captain. Pelican Bravo One-Seven-One out." Jerome turned back to Alice. "Get the packs and equipment up here, they're already en route. ETA: thirty seconds."

Alice nodded. "On it." And reentered the troop bay, a few seconds later the ammo and explosives packs were tossed into the forward compartment.

 _"Pelican Bravo One-Seven-One this is Raptor Three-Zero-Seven. We are approaching now. Open your rear compartment for inspection immediately."_ The Spartans collectively heard in their helmets' speakers from the female Raptor pilot. Upon hearing this, Alice removed her HMG from the straps securing it to the bay deck plate and brought it too into the cockpit.

"All clear." Alice confirmed before heading back to keep an eye on the Raptor during its inspection.

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **LT MARGARET (RACETRACK) EDMONDSON, RAPTOR 307**

 **5 KILOMETERS FROM GALACTICA**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **54 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

Racetrack held the Raptor in position just behind the Pelican's hefty tail section, the damn thing looked big enough to pack in several squads of marines or a full lance of Centurions she thought pessimistically. The Raptor pilot opened a private channel to the other Viper flying escort. "Reilly, take position on my wing, we're gonna be sitting ducks for the toasters in there when that door opens. The moment we call out Cylons, I want you to blow that thing to hell, got it?"

 _"But what about Starbuck, she said she had a gut feeling about these guys."_ Reilly replied

"Frak her and her guts, this has trap written up and down it plain as day, anyone with a bit of sense can see it. Now form up on my wing, you want to kill some canners or what?"

The channel went dark and Reilly's Viper took position on the Raptor's portside much to Racetrack's satisfaction. Newbies were so easy to boss around.

"We got activity on the bird." Skulls called out from his station. Ahead Racetrack could see the door under the dropship's tail split horizontally and open outward, revealing a nearly empty interior save for on lone figure standing on the right side of the entrance looking out at the Raptor.

Skulls trained the Raptor's searchlight on the Pelican's open compartment but the focus quickly moved to who or what was standing in it.

"Rear crew compartment is empty, no munitions or extra personnel on board…wait what the frak?" Racetrack said as the olive green armored figure was illuminated. "Skulls, what do you have on the camera?" She asked quickly concern growing in her voice.

"Holy shit it's a Centurion!"

Racetrack looked back at her copilot at the ECO station. "Are you _sure_ , that doesn't look like any I've ever seen."

"It's gotta be a new model." Skulls replied his voice more stressed than her own.

Racetrack turned back to the controls and opened a channel to Galactica. "This is Raptor Three-Oh-Seven to Galactica, we have spotted possible Centurion presence onboard, requesting instruction."

"Raptor Three-Oh-Seven this is Starbuck, describe…" Racetrack heard Starbuck ask but she was quickly drowned out by Skulls.

"Possible my ass Racetrack, it's a fraking canner! That thing is seven feet tall and covered in metal, it's a Gods damned Cylon no matter how it's painted!"

"Just hold on!" Racetrack called but it was too late.

"Viper Ten-Twenty-Six this is Raptor Three-Oh-Seven, we have spotted a Centurion on board, open fire!"

Just as the reply from Galactica started to come in Racetrack saw the bursts from the Viper's guns impact the alien dropship's starboard nacelle.

 **APRIL 16 2534 1619 HOURS**

 **SPARTAN RED TEAM**

 **PELICAN BRAVO 171**

 **58 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

Alice held on for dear life as the Pelican rocked from its starboard nacelle exploding. It was a damn good thing these birds could take a beating, otherwise they would all be dust right now.

"Why are they shooting?!" Douglas exclaimed.

"Doesn't matter, hold on." Jerome interrupted. Alice watched as the Raptor behind them got bucked by the Pelican's rear thrusters firing at full burn. It wasn't long until the Viper that had fired on them began to close the distance with captain Thrace's Viper following shortly behind him. Alice took a wide stance and engaged the electromagnets in her boots at full power, affixing the Spartan to the floor of the Pelican while she pulled the assault rifle from her back.

The MA5B wasn't optimized for range like its brother rifle, the MA5C. It packed a ridiculous sixty round magazine and had an insane firing rate of 900 7.62mm rounds per minute. It was meant for defending and capturing ships, using their tight hallways and closed spaces for maximum carnage. It was widely regarded as an overblown submachine gun by Marines who couldn't use the weapon to its full effectiveness.

But it was in the hands of a Spartan.

Alice took aim as the Viper started to come in to finish them off. In the corner of her vision she could see the nose of Galactica, Alice just needed to hold these bastards off until they landed in the flight pod. Alice fired a quick burst in front of the Viper, causing the craft to buck a little in reaction. The pilot was a rookie, a more experienced pilot wouldn't flinch at incoming fire, however the Viper accelerated again and resumed its pursuit, this time coming in even faster than before. Alice barely had time to adjust as she trained her reticule on the Viper's flight path and squeezed the trigger, letting fly nearly the entire magazine's worth of armor piercing rounds, raking along the Viper's fuselage with dozens of holes. Douglas was right, they did have crap for armor. Unfortunately for the Spartan, Viper Mark II's were sturdy and incredibly well engineered craft despite their age. The fighter had lost a bit of its stability from the hail of bullets it had weathered but still managed to fire a burst into the Pelican's tail, disabling another of its engines and the craft to lose control.

Starbuck watched as the tail section tore from the Pelican's main body before the bisected remains of the 13th tribe ship crash land on the flight pod's landing strip, a feeling of dread washing over her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire**

(A Battlestar Galactica-Halo Wars crossover)

Episode 1

Those Once Lost: Part 3

 _With_

 _Willem Dafoe as Major Vladimir Markov_

 _Guest Starring Shia LaBeouf as Ensign Reilly_

 **Author's Note:** For those who don't get why Shia LaBeouf is playing a character, watch Scar (Season 2, episode 15) to get the joke.

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR GALACTICA BS-75**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **1 HOUR AFTER CONTACT**

"What the HELL just happened!" Tigh roared as the bridge erupted into chaos.

"Confirmed report of Pelican dropship crash landing in the port flight pod, damage to the deck is minimal." An officer called from the Deck Division Station

"Receiving contradicting reports of Cylon Centurion presence aboard the dropship." Dee called out, sorting through the confused radio chatter. "Viper Ten-Twenty-Six has sustained significant damage from small arms fire." She added.

"Get an emergency response team and a Marine detachment on the deck to secure that bird!" Admiral Adama ordered at the top of his voice.

"SIR!" Gaeta called out to the admiral. Adama quickly swung around to face him. "Detecting several nuclear signatures from the _Spirit of Fire_ and a growing electromagnetic signature excess of seventy million, no one hundred sixty million…electromagnetic signature growing exponentially sir."

"Keep it monitored." Adama replied before turning his attention to one of the dozen other emergency situations developing.

"Viper squadrons are requesting permission to engage Admiral!" Another officer from the Comms Station voiced.

"Admiral, I have Captain Cutter on the line, he wants to speak to you immediately!" Dee announced.

"Put it though the hard line. All Viper Squadrons are to hold their positions and only return fire unless fired upon!" Adama ordered.

Tigh marched up to one of the other officers at the Comms Station. "You, get me through to the escort flight, I want to know what the frak happened out there!" Adama turned back to the main Command and Control Station and picked up his hard-lined phone.

"This is _Galactica_ Actual,"

" _You want to tell me why your escorts just shot down one of my Pelicans with three of my men aboard."_ Captain Cutter said sternly.

"My executive officer is investigating into circumstances as to why your ship was fired upon as we speak. An emergency response crew has already been deployed the scene of the crash, if there are any surviving crew, you will be contacted immediately."

" _I'm afraid we are far past excuses Admiral, you have ten minutes to stand down weapons and surrender or I will gut your ship from stem to stern. Spirit of Fire Actual out."_ And with that final ultimatum, the line went dark.

Admiral Adama slowly hung up the phone before announcing his next order. "Put a timer on the board, _Spirit of Fire_ will commence attack in ten minutes." All Adama could do now was wait for Tigh's assessment and see whether or not the recon flight was in the right or wrong in their action. But given how Cutter had reacted in comparison to typical Cylon behavior, it wasn't looking too good on their part. Starbuck's theory of _Spirit_ being from the Thirteenth was looking more and more likely, which at the moment was ironically unfortunate given the current situation.

"Admiral," Lieutenant Gaeta called out again. "The electromagnetic signature emanating from _Spirit of Fire_ is now exceeding seventy-nine-billion units, sir." He said, with his voice trembling. Adama could barely hide the fear growing inside him, he had thought Captain Cutter's threat to gut _Galactica_ nothing more than chest puffing, but now the Admiral was realizing that the man may have been quite literal in his statement.

 **APRIL 16 2534 1623 HOURS**

 **SPARTAN RED TEAM**

 **I HOUR 2 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"Is everyone in one piece?" Jerome said to his teammates magnetically clasped on to the outer hull of Galactica's flight pod beside him.

Douglas sounded a little out of breath when he replied. "Yeah I'm good, rather not do that again though."

The Spartans had bailed just as the tail broke away from the rest of the Pelican, a good thing too since the debris had given them enough cover to escape unnoticed.

"I lost my AR." Alice said simply in reply to Jerome.

"What, a rotary, belt-fed, machinegun ain't enough for you?" Douglas replied handing off the HMG to her.

"I don't know, a rocket launcher would've been _kinda_ nice a minute ago." Alice replied, taking a dig at her fellow Spartan.

"The ammo pack went down with the bird." Jerome announced to his team. "But we still have the explosives." That was firmly strapped to the Red Team leader's back and not going to get lost anytime soon.

"So what's the plan now?" Alice asked while she checked her modified M41 Vulcan for damage.

Douglas huffed. "Plan B." He answered for Jerome.

"How are we infiltrating?" Alice asked in return. "Hangar's gonna be packed with a security detail. And we could get bottlenecked in either of those bridging sections."

Douglas began scanning up and down the iron grey warship. "Can't be the only way in, a ship this big needs emergency airlock doors or escape pods. But we could always make our own door."

Jerome was a step ahead of his fellow Spartan. "I got eyes on what looks to be an airlock on the main body of the ship." In the top right corner of their HUDs Douglas and Alice saw the feed from Jerome's helmet camera and then a waypoint marker was set on their displays. The airlock was right on the end of the fore section, almost unperceivable to a normal eye. "We'll infiltrate from there and head for the bridge. It will likely be in the core of that heavily armored fore section. Get ready to jump Spartans, we'll be going in hot."

Red Team pushed off the hull together, propelling themselves toward the Battlestar's main body. Hopefully they'd just look like a large piece of debris from the Pelican on Galactica's sensors. Two minutes passed and the Spartans remained unmolested through their flight and to when they finally made contact with the main body of the venerable Battlestar. With their boots on the hull, they quickly assumed breach formation around the airlock. Alice and Douglas kept their guns trained on the sky while Jerome retrieved a length of thermite-carbon cord from the pack and attached it to the locking mechanism on the center line of the door.

"Charge is active, Douglas get ready to breach." Douglas's acknowledgement light blinked green in affirmative before he took an inverted position above the door with Jerome, ready to pull it open.

There was a slight give as the main locks were broken and the two Spartans easily pulled apart the 1000 pound doors. Positioned at the top right and left hand corners, with weapons ready, they then leaned in and scanned for hostiles. "Clear." Jerome announced. With no threats detected, the Spartans quickly entered before the emergency systems engaged, shutting their infiltration point behind them.

"Jerome, give me the pack, I've already got the big gun." Alice motioned her machinegun. Without a question Jerome handed it over, he instinctually knew what she was thinking and that she was right, there was no need for two Spartans to be encumbered and Alice would cover their rear. Once the swap was made Alice spun up her HMG and aimed it at the window to the airlock control.

"Red Team, you know the drill. Complete the mission, no one dies." Jerome reminded.

Alice fired a burst into the window, the armor piercing rounds easily piercing through and creating dozens of stress fractures. After that it only took a single blow from Jerome to completely shatter the reinforced glass and the three MJOLNIR-clad Spartan super-soldiers moved inside _Galactica_ , God help anyone who got in their way.

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR GALACTICA BS-75**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **1 HOUR 8 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"Sirs, the maintenance team we sent to airlock twelve are reporting back." Damage control announced to the Admiral and his XO nervously. "We have been boarded sir." The announcement brought the work of several officers to a stand still while the more seasoned members like Gaeta kept their focus.

"Are they sure?" Adama asked.

"The locking mechanism has been melted clean through and the glass has been shot out to airlock control."

"Gods damn." Tigh half-whispered with dread.

Gaius stood off in a corner out of the way of the bridge personnel and watching Adama talk with another section head about some other dire situation, himself feeling more than useless at the moment. Negotiations were out of the question now and the ship that might be their only salvation of ever finding Earth was just two minutes from firing every weapon it had at _Galactica_. And because of that, Gaius was racking his brain into how he had failed, never seemingly to have been given the opportunity to test his worth to Six and God. What could he have done?

" _Don't beat yourself up yet Gaius."_ He heard Six say, realizing she had appeared beside him. _"The opportunity to prove yourself hasn't passed you by."_

Gaius quickly turned his head to her, forgetting for a moment to act subtly in her presence as to not look completely mad to other people. "You mean?"

Six stroked her hand on the side of his face, her fingertip outlining the edge of his beard. _"God would never be so cruel as to present hope and then suddenly take it away, especially not to you."_

"What do you mean Six?"

 _"They're here Gaius, on this ship, heading for this very room right now. The immortal sons and daughters of Hercules. If you believe the rumors."_

"What?" Gaius replied at Six's cryptic words. "When, how soon will they be here?"

Six moved directly in front of Gaius, placing her immaterial hands upon his shoulders. _"Very soon Gaius, in fact they are just moments away and when they do arrive you will not have much time to act, so you will want to choose your words wisely."_ She finished with a devious yet enchanting smile.

As if on queue gunshots sounded from the rifles of the Marine guards who were stationed right outside the CIC. Gaius's muscles jumped and his face began to lose color as silence now set in, heralding an impending storm soon to come down upon everyone in that room. _"Remember, the fate of humanity rests in your hands."_ And with that final ultimatum, Six pushed him to the ground just as she did back on Caprica.

Adama had stood next to the command station when all hell broke loose. The boarders from _Spirit of Fire_ had managed to bypass every security measure _Galactica_ had and seemingly appeared out of nowhere right next to the CIC. The Marine guards stationed outside were either dead or incapacitated. The Marines in the room took positions by the main entryways with their weapons at the ready and stoic expressions hiding the fear apparent in their eyes. Then without warning, the three main doors to the CIC all blew simultaneously. The Marines found themselves blown back by the detonation of the breaching charges, even Tigh was knocked to the floor and Adama would have been as well if he didn't have the command station at his back. The deafening explosions accompanied by the sharp heat wave momentarily incapacitated him as well. The memory of Boomer's sudden violent attack on him in that very place flashed in his mind.

When he opened his eyes, a massive figure was nearly upon him, not a Cylon Centurion as had been in a few of his nightmares but an olive green armored giant with a gleaming gold visor reflecting Adama's own image back at him. In less than a second the giant pushed Bill back onto the station's tabletop with a single hand that at once managed to knock all the breath out of him. The next moment Adama found the cold metal barrel of a pistol in between his eyes and silence once again gripped the CIC.

"No one moves." Alice said clearly as she spun up the rotating triple barrel of her M41. All around she could see in the faces of the very human looking personnel of _Galactica_ as their collective stomachs dropped simultaneously at the sight of the spooling HMG. One could almost be certain that no one was breathing as well. Douglas moved down from the raised row of stations to join Jerome, keeping his M7s raised at all times. "Everyone up!" he barked to all the CIC. "You hide, you get shot." The Spartan ordered, not taking a chance at someone pulling a sidearm out from under a console. The crew complied, slowly revealing themselves and standing with arms raised.

"Order this ship to stand down immediately." Jerome commanded, pressing the barrel of his magnum into the Admiral's temple.

Tigh sat himself up from off the floor. "This is what you call negotiations?" the surly XO bellowed.

Douglas turned his attention to the elderly executive officer. "This was Plan B until you assholes blew up our ride." He replied, aiming one of his SMGs at the balding man's chest, silencing him.

"Trust us; you don't want to see Plan C." Alice threatened. She covered Douglas as he secured the room and stripped the fallen but still breathing Colonial Marines of their weapons before they regained consciousness. Though statistically there was still a 9% chance of a fatal injury, it looked like non-lethal pressure wave delivered by the breach-bang charges still did their job.

Gaius pushed himself to his knees in a confused shocked state, he couldn't remember what happened. The ringing in his ears brought back memories of his time on Kobol when he and his search team were ambushed by Centurions. He blinked several times, clearing both the remnants of carbon smoke and his own sense of confusion bringing him awareness to an immense figure holding Admiral Adama down on the command station and pressing a pistol to his forehead.

"Order this ship to _stand down_." The humanoid figure seemingly repeated with what must have been more weight in his voice than the first time he had said it.

"You'll have to shoot me before I surrender this ship." Adama replied with gritted teeth, stubborn even in the face of imminent death.

Adrenaline and a rush of oxygen as result of Gaius' heavy breathing quickly brought him greater clarity. It all came back at once, the ship of the Thirteenth Tribe, Six's ultimatum, who these people were, and the purpose he had been given. This had to be his time. If he did not act right then, humanity would be doomed. With his head still throbbing, Gaius stood himself on shaky legs and shouted loudly. "I am the Vice President!"

The red-striped invader's head turned toward Gaius as did another holding the twin submachineguns and what appeared to be a half dozen Marine sidearms latched to their belt and chest. Gaius slowly raised his nervously shaking hands as a show of peace. "My name is Gaius Baltar and I am the Vice President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol." He said more clearly, if more nervously with the gazes of the two heavily armed olive clad figures upon him. "Please…I beg you if you are human don't hurt anyone. We, we can still negotiate a peaceful solution to all this if we all just stop pointing guns at each other. No one has to die." The invaders from the Thirteenth Tribe did not move, but they didn't shoot him either. With a drying mouth Gaius then asked them. "What are your names? Can you show us your faces to prove you're human?"

The red-stripped invader turned his attention back to Adama who still lay planted on the tabletop. The invader moved his pistol down over Bill's heart then to the Admiral's surprise, the golden mirrored visor faded into crystal clear glass. Beneath Bill saw the upper half of face belonging to a man that looked far too young for someone of his size. "Senior Chief Petty Officer Spartan Jerome Zero-Nine-Two."

"Senior Chief Petty Officer Alice, Spartan One-Three-Zero." Spoke the invader wielding the massive machinegun who clearly spoke with a feminine tone to Gaius' surprise.

"Spartan Douglas Zero-Forty-Two, Senior Chief Petty Officer." Finished the last invader with his growling monotone but one thing was absolutely clear from the very human faces showing behind their visors. These were definitely not Centurions.

Gaius took a breath as his nerves were beginning to solidify again. "Admiral, we've made a grave mistake. Galactica needs to stand down its weapons immediately, these people are clearly not Cylons."

"How the hell do we know that?" Tigh spoke up as he tentatively rose up from the floor. "They could be some freaky sewn up half canner abominations for all we know."

"What the fuck are you talking about? The _hell_ is a Cylon?" Alice queried as she continued sweeping her HMG across the CIC.

"Suffice it to say, highly advanced _automatons_." Gaius said in very simplified terms with the translator filling in another odd word. "We created them decades ago and they rebelled, violently. A hundred and ninety-nine days ago all twelve of our colonies were destroyed by Cylon attack and the they have been hunting after us ever since. The fleet your ship has encountered is all that is left of our civilization." Gaius said with a somber tone. "The Cylons have infiltrators, units that are nearly indistinguishable from normal humans. Spies and saboteurs have plagued us almost every step of our way just to get this far." He offered as explanation for what these people might have perceived to be rampant paranoia.

Douglas then spoke up, directed at Saul Tigh. "We're not fucking robots old man. We get enough of that crap from the ODSTs."

Ignoring that outburst, Gaius continued. "Please don't hold anything against Admiral Adama, he was only trying to protect the fleet. There was no way of knowing with absolute certainty you weren't Cylons. If you release him, I give you my word as Vice President I will mediate peaceful negotiations."

"Sir?" Alice asked, directed at her CO.

After a tense second, the Spartan leader pulled back his sidearm and stepped away, allowing the Admiral to stand himself off from the station. The other Spartan Douglas lowered his weapons to his sides and the electronic whir of the female Spartan's Vulcan slowly faded.

Now it was their turn. Gaius cleared his throat as he lowered his arms. "Admiral?"

Adama met Gaius' eyes as he flattened the creases on his uniform where the Spartan had his hand on his chest moments before. "Lieutenant Gaeta order all squadrons to stand down. Disengage weapon locks and pull our nuclear missiles from firing position. Dualla, open a line to _Spirit of Fire_."

Both the two officers cautiously sat themselves at their stations and followed their given orders. "Connection established Admiral." Dee announced. Bill picked up the phone, hearing Cutter's voice almost immediately.

 _"Admiral?"_

"Spirit, this is _Galactica_ Actual, we are standing down weapons at this time. I have your soldiers aboard, alive and intact. They've since notified me of your… _authenticity_." Bill said for the lack of a better word. "Our fleet is being pursued actively by a hostile force seeking our annihilation and one of my pilots made a critical error in misidentifying your men as enemy combatants. You have my apologies and I would like to propose a ceasefire. The Colonial Vice President has volunteered himself to lead the negotiations on our behalf."

" _I'm glad we could finally come to an understanding Admiral. I'll have my Marines and airmen notified immediately of the situation. Can I speak to the leader of Red Team?"_

Bill looked to the strange soldier of the Thirteenth Tribe with his typical stern yet stoic expression as he held the phone out to him. The Spartan pressed the sidearm in his right hand to the plate on his thigh where it then stayed, held by what Bill assumed was some kind of electromagnetic mechanism. Then with a hiss emanating from his helmet, Jerome removed it with a quick pull, revealing the fair, too young of a face Bill had glimpsed. The Spartan looked to be only in his late teens or very early twenties but had the solid eyes of a veteran who had seen just as many years of action disturbingly. Holding the thickly armored helm under his left arm, he was about to take the phone from Admiral Adama.

 _BEE-BEEP BEE-BEEP BEE-BEEP BEE-BEEP BEE-BEEP BEE-BEEP BEE-BEEP BEE-BEEP_

 **Author's Note:** Yeah, I'm a complete bastard for that cliffhanger but if I went on this part would stretch on way too long and I hate 4000+ word chapters. Part 4 will be a while but since this is getting more traction than my other story, I'll put greater effort into this for the time being. And as for part 4, don't worry. Things are going get hot in a way only BSG can give you a sense of scale for.


	4. Chapter 4

**Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire**

(A Battlestar Galactica-Halo Wars crossover)

Episode 1

Those Once Lost: Part 4

 _With_

 _Gideon Emery as Captain James Cutter_

 _Courtenay Taylor as Serina_

 _Willem Dafoe as Major Vladimir Markov_

 _Rob Mayes as Jerome-092_

 _Christopher Eccleston as Lieutenant Colonel Christian McCullen_

 _Zachary Quinto as Petty Officer Jonathan Green_

 _Chiwetel Ejiofor as Lieutenant Isaac Larson_

 _Michael Peña as Petty Officer Blake_

 _Jay Baruchel as Lieutenant Travis_

 _Guest Starring Shia LaBeouf as Ensign Reilly_

 _Guest Starring Simon Pegg as Petty Officer Jonah Roland_

 **Author's Note: Feel free to listen to the BSG battle soundtracks of your choice because this is all just one big long battle. I said I hated 4000+ word chapters but I just couldn't see splitting any of this up. So here you go over 13,000 words of solid action that I hope gets just a little close to those frantic dogfights and grand space combat scenes we saw in the show. Also updated the cast to reflect the actors they're using in Halo Wars 2. It just looks better in my mind's eye seeing Adama talk to an actual person and not a CGI character.**

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR GALACTICA BS-75**

 **CIC**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **1 HOUR 20 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"DRADIS CONTACT!" Gaeta alerted just as the action stations klaxon started blaring. In quick response, Jerome immediately threw his helmet back on as all three of the Spartans readied themselves in the face of a possible threat. "Multiple contacts! Five cylon basestars!" Gaeta announced practically flabbergasted. "They're all around us, bearing one-six-four, carom two-nine…" The Tactical Officer continued listing off the coordinates, by the time he was half the way through it was apparent to the Spartans that the Colonials were not attempting a double-cross for lack of action against the trio and their attention focused elsewhere. Jerome allowed himself to look up at one of the main tactical screens for the Galactica's sensors, indeed on the three-quarter sphere were five red markers signifying whatever class of warship a 'basestar' was. Two were on the high flanks of the green marker which Jerome assumed to be _Galactica_ and the three other contacts were in similar position behind an orange marker, _Spirit of Fire_ , Jerome realized. The Spartan raised the phone to his helmet. A much more awkward thing with than without it but there might not be time to spare.

"Sierra Zero-Nine-Two to _Spirit of Fire_ Actual, do you copy? _Galactica_ has five contacts on sensors can you verify?"

It was Serina who answered instead of Captain Cutter, already a bad omen. _"Confirmed Sierra, we have contacts on five unidentified ships that just jumped in, three are to our immediate rear at ten kilom-nuclear launch detected! New contacts, multiple strike craft launching."_

If what the Colonial Vice President said was true, had these cylons been monitoring their secure communications this entire time? Waiting in expectation for _Galactica_ and _Spirit of Fire_ to kill each other for the past hour? It did seem highly inconvenient that the warships had shown up just as a ceasefire had been established over radio communications. Mendez always said there was no such thing as a coincidence.

" _Spirit of Fire_ , all new contacts are hostile. Do not fire on _Galactica_ at this time, repeat: hold fire on the _Galactica_. Sierra Zero-Nine-Two out."

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **VIPER SQUADRON 3**

 **CAPTAIN KARA (STARBUCK) THRACE, VIPER 8757**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **1 HOUR 21 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"Frak," Starbuck cursed as her DRADIS lit up with an ocean of crimson cylon contacts. Five gods damned basestars and who knows how many Raiders and Heavy Raiders, well over a thousand would be the safest bet to make, probably much more.

" _All squadrons hold fire on Thirteenth Tribe contacts."_ Starbuck heard the Admiral command. _"Break off and engage all inbound Raiders, defend Galactica!"_

"You heard the man!" Starbuck barked as she gunner her Viper's RCS to about-face. "Break off and engage all cylon contacts. First Squadron you're with me! Fourth Squadron escort the Raptors to hit the other basestar with missiles!"

Already _Galactica_ like a lumbering great Aquarian Whale was making an emergency maneuver to port to present at least one of the basestars to her topside batteries. A dozen cylon missiles were screaming silently through the airless void inbound for _Galactica_. With not a second to spare, the battlestar's flak guns spun up to weave the chaotic exploding umbrella of airburst munitions, striking down eleven-twelfths of the first nuclear salvo save for one missile from the flanking starboard side basestar marked on her DRADIS as the Target-Two Basestar. A blinding flash signaled the miniature sun detonating upon the upper hull between topside port and starboard engine pods.

"Frak! Gun it! We can't let those Raiders get off their nukes too!" Starbuck commanded desperately as the Vipers jammed the throttle to maximum.

Over the wireless Starbuck could hear a shaken but unbroken Anastasia Dualla continuing to perform her duties. _"Squadrons, I'm reporting a radiation burst from Spirit of Fire, she's accelerating! Speed-what? That can't be right…"_ she trailed off.

" _Holy frak, here it comes!"_ Hot Dog exclaimed over the wireless. Starbuck leaned left to get a better look as _Spirit of Fire_ cruised in at a speed that was easily double the top speed of _Galactica_ or _Pegasus_ for that matter, managing to close thirty kilometers in the span of less than a minute with nothing but sub-light engines.

" _Gods, how can a ship that size move that fast?"_ Sandman commented.

" _DRADIS detecting new course for Spirit of Fire."_ Dualla announced. _"Speed is decreasing. Bearing four-two, carom…"_ Starbuck didn't need to hear the rest, it was plain to see _Spirit of Fire_ was headed directly for the basestar on Galactica's starboard flank, the same one Starbuck and her two squadrons were headed for.

" _Vipers clear the way!"_ an oddly accented voice came over the wireless. _"Spirit's going to fire her MAC guns!"_

Slightly annoyed at someone else issuing orders, Starbuck replied to the transmission. "Who the frak is this?"

" _God almighty that's who! Now move if you don't want to get turned into a damned smear!"_

"Vipers break, make a hole!" The CAG ordered. She broke right along with the thirty other Mk II Vipers including Kat and Hot Dog holding close off her wing. To Starbuck's left, the ship of the Thirteenth Tribe glided past, nearly close enough for Starbuck to make out individual windows along the edge of the starboard side wing and barely two kilometers apart from Galactica's underbelly as the old girl banked.

Then at once a subdued blue-white flash emanated from the three large forward mounted cannons on the Spirit's upper bow marked by an electromagnetic discharge off the scales of her Viper's instrumentation but that could hardly be paid attention to given two of the basestar's upper aft arms were shorn clear off in a split instant. Kara blinked to confirm what she was seeing. Two starfish like basestar arms tumbling off trailing clouds of debris from their shredded bases with expansive areas of molten metal glowing hot-orange from sheer frictional force delivered.

Then the Spirit fired again.

The second round impacted dead center on the basestar's body and the result made Kara's lips part open. The basestar was literally crumbling apart. The center mass of the main body looked to have been partially vaporized into a molten cloud that trailed behind the exit wound like a slow-motion blood splatter hanging in the air. Around the gaping emptiness the basestar's upper and lower halves were tearing themselves apart from the lingering imparted impact force in combination with breached and detonating missile magazines and igniting tylium stores in the final death throes of the doomed ship.

" _Frak me…"_ Starbuck heard Hot Dog swear in awe when Starbuck could not find herself able to. It was terrifying to think how close _Galactica_ had come to almost suffering the same fate. It wouldn't have been as much of a shooting contest as would have been execution by firing squad.

With a subdued _beep_ , the dead basestar fell off her Viper's DRADIS now that its reactor had been at least partially reduced to its component atoms, bringing Starbuck back to reality and the reality was there was still several tidal waves of Raiders inbound on all sides. "Vipers form up on the Spirit, we'll use her for cover to ambush the inbound bandits. With that basestar dead they got no fire support now!" Kara was already gunning her engines at full just to keep up with the massive warship's acceleration as it banked behind Galactica's aft. Kara could see the Spirit's portside fighter missile defenses activating as the Raiders breached the five-kilometer mark and tearing them all to pieces in a manner that made basestar salvos look conservative.

"Got new tally on bandits, looking at only three dozen Turkeys and triple that in Sparrows. Alright Vipers, let's show them what we're made of. Move to engage!" Starbuck and the other Vipers kicked up and to the left over the Spirit's topside using their reaction control jets. _Spirit of Fire_ appropriately lightened up the missile barrage with friendlies inside the turrets' lines of fire.

Ahead of the scant thirty Viper pilots lie a wave of over a hundred Raiders and another three squadrons of Heavy Raiders. A few more bought it thanks to the Spirit's support but that would only last as long as Spirit was in the vicinity to offer fire support. Fairly soon she'd have to engage the other basestar Galactica was contending with, not to mention the three other enemy air wings incoming, far off but still close enough to make Starbuck nervous.

" _Let's cut into them Longswords!"_ The same voice again called over the wireless. _"Corvo Squadron come in on their left an' carve'em to pieces!"_ Over Starbucks head the comparatively massive black delta shaped Thirteenth Tribe fighter-craft raced ahead of the Vipers, more resembling corvettes or heavy bombers than anything close to a Viper. _"Cutthroat-One fox one!"_

After him Starbuck heard the firing confirmations of the other dozen 'Cutthroat' pilots sending out a streaking a mass of twenty-four missiles belching silver-tinged propellant exhaust. The vague outlines of the sickly crescent-shaped Raiders and blocky Heavies coming into focus bucked and jinked to break the missile locks but judging by the swath of red blips that fell of the DRADIS screen, the cylons were mostly unsuccessful. _"Tallyho! Tallyho! All Longswords, weapons free!"_ Came the call as theCutthroat Squadron opened up with their cannons.

"Weapons free!" Starbuck ordered.

The two formations let fly their opposing burning hailstorms of high velocity munitions. Streaks of blazing orange and frigid blue bolted past the other, sailing on as one 50mm shell from a Longsword did, sheering off half of a Raider's left hook shaped wing and causing it to tumble right into a spray of 30mm rounds from Kat's Viper meant for another target. Fifty meters away, one Heavy Raider bought it big time when it ran face-first into a pair of twin 120mm shells delivered by a Longsword's ventral turret. The craft was torn asunder with the few surviving Centurions it was carrying being suddenly purged into the breathless void filled with the raucous silent cacophony of the chaotic battle around. With a fierce snarling expression like her namesake Kat performed a drifting strafe of a Heavy's vulnerable rear before a burst from a Longsword store her prey from her. _"Hey! Kill stealing asshole!"_

Cutthroat-07 clipped a Raider with the end of its lengthy right wing but survived the impact with little more than a spray of crimson now adorning it, whereas the Raider was much less fortunate. _"Warlock you lucky bastard!"_ Came congratulations from his wingman.

" _Takes one to know one Cutthroat-Nine."_

From the right side of the cylon air wing, Corvo Squadron finally arrived to join in on the hairball, carving out their own sizable portion of the Raiders' mass with another volley of missiles.

" _Watch it lard-ass!"_ Sheppard cursed as his resplendent red and white Mk. II nearly collided with one of the incoming ravens.

" _Corvo-Two fox one!"_

Starbuck shot passed the Heavy Raider as the missile struck, not bothering to see the results as she closed in on the toaster she was tailing. She mashed the trigger on the joystick, nailing the biomechanical canner right in its ass just as she had done with the last six.

" _Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Corvo-Four, I'm reporting loss of portside RCS."_

" _Can you make it back Corvo-Four?"_ asked a woman who must have been the squadron's leader.

" _We'll try."_

"Kat, down anything that gets on his six, make sure that bent-bird gets back to its roost."

" _Copy!"_ Came the reply riddled with standard interference. Starbuck jammed her thrusters as another Raider came into her sights. A light burst from her cannons raked down its left side until one round struck the magazine. A short pop of an explosion blew its metal face off and Starbuck broke off to let it tumble aimlessly while she searched for her next target. An alarm sounded from the DRADIS, two nuclear signatures.

" _Nuke!"_ Someone called out either from the Vipers or Longswords, Kara honestly couldn't tell.

 **APRIL 16 2534, 1705 HOURS**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE CFV-88**

 **MAIN BRIDGE**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **1 HOUR 34 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"Serina!" Cutter called out strapped firmly in his chair.

"Intercepting!" Serina replied tensely. "I've got them…there." The AI artificially breathed with relief.

"Coming about, enemy warship sighted. Distance, three point five kilometers, bearing: twenty-three degrees starboard, mark sixty-one degrees vertical." Lieutenant Larson called out.

"Too high for the MAC guns unless you want to get tricky sir." Serina added.

"Lieutenant Travis, have the deck guns open fire and lock on with available archer pods, target weapon batteries and fighter bays!" Cutter ordered to the weapons officer.

"Apologies Captain but the Archer Missiles will be combat ineffective until we're clear of Galactica's fireworks show." Serina notified.

"Give me the status of all squadrons." Cutter demanded.

"Squadrons one and four along with two squadrons of Vipers now have numerical advantage and are mopping up the remaining fighters from the first warship. Second and third squadrons are escorting our bombers for a tactical strike against the nearest enemy warship." Serina finished with a smile.

"Then let's focus on coming about and targeting those other three ships. Extend out our ATAF missile shield around the _Galactica_ for the time being. We'll support her however we can but our priority remains the other three hostile warships." Cutter announced loud enough for the whole bridge to hear, his voice clear and decisive. It was that same unshakable attitude that helped get them all through the hell that was that artificial planet and it would get them through this.

"Sir," Serina spoke again with greater urgency. "A large amount of enemy boarding craft are penetrating the Galactica's flak umbrella. Her remaining Vipers are breaking off their escort to engage but multiple contacts have already landed inside that port flight pod. The Raptor squadron is moving to join up with our Shortswords for the tactical strike but that won't mean a damn thing if _Galactica_ turns from just an ordinary tub into a rat infested one. And not to nag but we have three more enemy air wings inbound who appear to want to do the same to us."

The Captain grimaced as Spirit trembled from a non-nuclear missile impact that managed to get through the sixty-year-old Phoenix's defenses. " _Galactica_ will have to deal with the boarders on her own. They have Red Team aboard, let's hope they'll be enough."

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR GALACTICA BS-75**

 **CIC**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **1 HOUR 38 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"Admiral, _Pegasus_ is requesting instructions." Petty Officer Dualla called out.

"Tell Garner to hold!" Tigh roared back as he moved closer to his old friend Bill, hunched over the command station. "We can't leave the fleet undefended!"

"Sirs, we have reports of boarders on-!" Gaeta called out as a missile strike rocked the CIC.

"Tell us something we don't already know!" Colonel Tigh barked from his position holding on to Bill to keep him upright as he scowled at the Spartans. "Where are they this time?"

"The Flight deck!" Gaeta managed to get out. "Thirty plus contacts!"

Adama held on to his lower abdomen, the pain apparent on his face from the trauma and surgery he had endured in recent months. "Get Marine response teams down there!" he got out through the discomforting pain.

Jerome saw the Colonial Vice President approach him, bordering on panic judging by his expression. He grabbed hold of the Spartan II's armored left arm to keep himself standing when another detonation trembled the room around. "Please, I beg you help us." He pleaded with wide eyes and a growing sheen of sweat on his face. "If the cylons destroy this ship, everything we just accomplished, all that we managed to overcome will be for nothing. The cylons will win." The din of combat engulfing the CIC was all Gaius could hear as he waited with worry for response.

"Red Team, we're moving out. Prepare for hostile contact." Jerome ordered as he pulled his assault rifle from his back, much to the surprise of everyone in the CIC. As much as he didn't like it, The Colonial Vice President was right and the Spartan knew well to be so. If these cylons managed to take hold or destroy this ship, then the Spirit's chances of getting hold of a Colonial FTL drive would instantly disappear. And getting back to the UNSC was mission critical priority one. He didn't like the idea of going into a firefight blind or fighting on the behalf of a foreign military but it seemed it was what the situation demanded.

Before leaving Jerome turned his head back to Adama. "Admiral, alert your soldiers to not fire on us." The Admiral gave the soldier a slight but solid confirming nod. With that the Spartans departed with Alice leading the way.

\\\\\O/

Elsewhere on _Galactica_ in a muggy near lightless area no one but engineers knew of, a massive naval artillery shell made its way up a conveyor from the primary magazine deep inside the ship to an elevator. Not an elevator like one any person would use, instead this one resembled a drive chain only close to a thousand times the size and with a thousand times the residually accumulated oil and grime that comes hand-in-hand with such mechanisms. The chain itself was fitted with large diameter holes in each linkage which the shell slotted precisely into when the elevator intermittently stopped and then resumed a moment later to carry it upward. Fifteen times the chain stopped and then continued until the artillery shell reached the climax of its ascent where it was removed by a steel piston close in size to its own diameter. A separate mechanism turned the shell upright and it ascended again. It reached its penultimate destination when a pair of clasps took hold around its sides and narrowly by the outer rim of its base to haul it up for a hydraulic ram to shove it into a narrow tube, one of two belonging to the Number 3 Turret of the Galactica's amidships battery. A series of heavy mechanical clunks sounded behind as the locks of the breach engaged and the firing chamber was shortly depressurized. A moment later the firing pin was struck and the controlled explosion birthed forth the high-explosive anti-ship shell from its casing to be caught by the magnetic fields induced by the four electromagnetic rails, slinging it with even greater force like an ancient ballista. It cruised through the exploding patchwork of detonating flak shells from the smaller but more numerous CIWS guns mounted on the battlestar's sides. Bright flashes illuminated the words: _From Tauron with love_ written in blood-red on its cone. This would be the fastest moment in its existence. From the munitions factories of Scorpia it was transported to Ragnar Anchorage where it sat for thirteen years until the Fall of the Twelve Colonies brought the crew of the _Galactica_ to the shell's longtime port one-hundred and ninety-eight days ago.

And in a few violent fractions of a second, that long journey came to an end when the warhead detonated into the forward missile battery of the cylon basestar's top section bow arm in a bright tylium fire-burst.

\\\\\O/

Three kilometers below, Spirit of Fire's twenty-some quad mounted deck guns cast their own shells up into the basestar's underbelly if it could be called that on a ship of such odd design. Against the more durable cylon plate meant to endure the scorching friction of atmospheric re-entry the tungsten slugs only moderately penetrated into the superstructure but they were nonetheless troublesome to the outgunned cylon warship. Its other aggressor, the _Galactica_ was a quarter into its wide lumbering arc around the basestar while its turret batteries belched a continuous salvo of high-explosive shells directed at the basestar's weapons and countermeasures. All of it, a distraction for the flight of Longsword Interceptors, Shortsword Bombers and Colonial Raptors armed to the teeth with anti-ship weaponry. The twenty-four Longswords of Breaker Squadron and Red Reaper Squadron shielded the other two squadrons as much as they could from cylon DRADIS as they closed in on four kilometers.

 _"Raptors, this is Reaper-One,"_ Directed Captain Franklin "A-Train" Ramos. _"Fire your missiles first, it'll give our bombers a target they can sight in on."_ He requested in lieu of their lack of battlenet integration.

 _"Copy Reaper. Raptors, focus fire on their tylium reserves on the basestar's lower half. Raptors five through nine, you are weapons-free!"_ Helo acknowledged from his Raptor as he gave the order. Several dozen silver darts rocketed away from the Raptors' missile pods through the narrow gaps in between the Longswords, homing in on the basestar's tylium stores. The UNSC craft accelerated to full speed now that they had made their presence known with the Raptors shortly following suit, praying their ECM and the Longswords ridiculously miniscule DRADIS signatures kept them alive long enough for the bombers to deliver their payload.

The missiles struck, making a not insignificant hole through the basestar's armor plating some fifty meters below a hangar bay with still no response from cylon countermeasures.

 _"Reaper-One, this is Thunder-One, we are ready to make our bombing run now. Clear the way."_

 _"Copy Thunder. Give'em hell."_

Along the lengthy tail sections of two of the six Shortswords, a series of bomb bay doors drew back revealing a single large munition that took up the entirety of the compartment. The ASGM-193 was the UNSC's largest non-nuclear missile capable of being carried by an aircraft. Used as a "stealth" munition when a nuclear weapon would have been detectable by the enemy it packed the explosive energy of ten M58 Archer Missiles, putting each weapon's yield at 20 megatons each.

At two kilometers the missiles dropped and the collection of spacecraft banked away toward the relative safety of _Galactica_ , their pilots eager to get as far away as they could.

From Helo's position at the flight controls of his Raptor he looked out to the far left in time to witness the climactic detonation of the missiles blasting a good third including an arm from the lower section, leaving a ragged hunk missing.

Hoots of celebration were offered by Colonial and UNSC flight officers alike with the crippling of the second basestar, primed for the _Spirit of Fire_ and _Galactica_ to shortly finish the job.

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR GALACTICA BS-75**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **PORT HANGAR DECK**

 **1 HOUR 45 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"Put pressure here!" Deck Chief Galen Tyrol instructed to Cally, a deckhand working under him to press the oil stained rag against the spillage of crimson leaking out over the yellow coveralls of a third figure. The individual the pair were knelt over being another deckhand, James "Jammer" Lyman, an ordinance tech who had gotten unlucky enough to catch a bullet in the right shoulder. Right now, they had him propped up against the wall adjacent to an ordinance elevator near middle forward third of the hangar deck. Previously they had been trying to retreat to the fore main elevator but had since then been cut off by the Centurions closing in. Even now he could hear their whirring servos and clanking of their metallic feet drawing ever closer. Galen stood up, his lips curled up into a snarl as he smashed the bottom of his fist against the control box he must have already hit over a dozen times. Damn it, this should still be working, it had to, it was their fraking last hope at getting out.

Galen knew the drills, hell, he'd helped write them after Galactica's first boarding attempt by the cylons. All airlocks and pressure doors on the flight deck had been sealed sixty seconds after the boarding alarm had been sounded and their locks flash-fused with thermite charges to keep the cylons from directly flooding into the battlestar's main body, forcing them through the access hatches and emergency airlocks two, maybe three at a time down into the hangar deck where Marine fireteams could fight the canners off. In the distance the Deck Chief could hear sporadic fire from the few Marines there were trying desperately to not defend _Galactica_ , but simply survive. Galen thought there would be more time for all the deckhands to evacuate and the defense teams to get here, he couldn't have been more wrong. Who knows how many other crewmen were still trapped throughout the deck.

"Jammer," Cally called out to him in a low tone of voice to keep him from going into shock. "Talk to me, what did you do this morning? What were you working on?"

The man breathed with staggered inhales for a couple of seconds, his eyes twitching around as he thought back through the pain. "I-I was working on the g-guns of Viper one-two-one. Hot Dog s-" he swallowed, trying to clear his mouth of the hindrance to his speech that wasn't there. "He said the timing seemed off on the right gun."

"That's good," Cally encouraged. "What was wrong with it, did you get it fixed?"

Jammer smiled at least as much as he could as his lips trembled. "Yeah, it was just a damaged gear on the timing mechanism, got it fixed in no time."

Cally smiled back and was about to reply when something metallic sounded behind her.

To her and both her crewmates' horror, a group of four Centurions were rounding the open bulkhead of the adjacent hangar section. With sharp and lanky chrome bodies offering distorted funhouse images on the deck around, they stood a head taller than any normal man like Galen, their own distinguished with an elongated mouthless jaw and single sweeping red eye along a wide V shaped visor. From the Centurions' arms, their triple-barreled guns began unfolding into position to gun the humans down like a death squad.

But that was as far as they got before they were perforated by a storm of scything orange tracers.

From the opposite side three figures emerged, first one that charged forward to the wall to Galen's left hauling what appeared to be a light anti-aircraft gun. A second followed shortly and stacked up behind the first, stowing one of its two odd looking weapons upon its thigh before taking a grenade from its belt and chucking it around the corner. When the grenade detonated the third appeared, approaching Galen and Cally instead of joining the others.

At first Galen thought it was mechanical just like the Centurions with the thick plates of metal encompassing their imposing physiques but on closer inspection made out the bodysuits beneath that unmistakably betrayed the lithe muscles of its wearers. Were they what Raptor 307 saw? It seemed easy enough to mistake them for machines. If so, how the frak did they get on the ship?

"A path to the main lift is clear," The third with the red stripe called out to them in a distinctly male voice, confirming Galen's thoughts. "Marines are clearing out wounded, get moving while it's still there." Red-Stripe's helmet turned to his left, a wordless signal seemingly given and the two advanced under the suppressing fire of the soldier wielding the HMG who moved up out of Galen's sight a moment later.

It only took half a second for Galen to decide what he was going to do. Taking a knee he looked the red-headed young woman in the eyes only a few inches away from his own. Cally, I need you to get Jammer to the lift, I need to see if there's still anyone else trapped like we almost were."

"Chief that's crazy!"

"Get Jammer out. That's an order." Galen commanded, bypassing the argument completely and taking the lead in helping the ordinance tech to his feet and getting his left arm over Cally's shoulder. "Go!" he shouted as she looked back.

Gone, Galen hurried after the three armored soldiers undoubtedly from _Spirit of Fire_ and the Thirteenth Tribe.

\\\\\O/

Down the hangar the Spartans charged forward at the widespread crowd of killer robots, as if fighting aliens wasn't science fiction enough for the soldiers of the UNSC. At first the cylons didn't fire at them. Perhaps they like the Colonials thought they were machines like themselves or the Spartans didn't fit into their database of hostile units, though maybe they just couldn't believe there could be humans that big. Whatever the reason, they still left themselves open as Jerome and Douglas launched themselves seven feet into the air, planting their boots upon the Centurions' chest and forcing them to the ground. Two rounds reported from Jerome's rifle and the M90 in Douglas' hands barked its foul breath into the robots' head-casings at point-blank range. The pair rose as quickly as they had landed with Alice stopping to brace her legs to let her Vulcan cackle away as it spun up to its maximum RPM. Any attention given to her teammates was immediately redirected at herself as she cut a swath through the platoon-sized unit in front of them. At the same moment, Jerome and Douglas took full advantage of the distraction, the latter dashing left to flank up around the aircraft maintenance pits using a gantry while Jerome went for a more aggressive advance. He fired a near continuous staccato of automatic rifle fire, shredding several cylons with jacketed armor piercing rounds accurate even while he dashed forward at a full run.

Up on the walkway Douglas tossed a grenade into the mix to buy Alice enough time to advance into cover of one of the diagonal support beams that segregated each maintenance pit to allow her ailing shields to recharge.

" _Alice, arm the package."_ Jerome ordered right as she reached cover. A thought sent through her armor's neural link blinked her recognition light green simultaneously as she set her gun to the deck to remove the rucksack laden with plastic explosives. She knew well if they couldn't repel the boarders, they'd need a backup plan and Spartans always had a backup plan, a very large amount of explosives being a fairly normal fallback for them. _Galactica_ would probably lose its flight pod but still better than the alternative. Opening the top flap gave her a clear view of the twenty-kilo block of C-12. She then retrieved two detonators from the side pouch and jammed the back prods deep into the soft mass, with a few button presses, they were armed for remote detonation with the primary detonator linked to the COMM signal of Jerome's armor and the backup linked to her own.

" _Package is armed."_ She confirmed with not a hint of emotion given.

" _Copy, move up to reengage contacts!"_ Back on the right Jerome landed a burst dead-on a Centurion's head and then took hold of it by the left arm before it could slump to the deck plating. He continued on, holding his impromptu shield as he continued firing bursts with his rifle single-handed. The cylon's lifeless shell took a peppering from its former brethren but bought the Spartan time to regain the quarter shield strength he had lost. Without a second thought, he chucked it off him and slid into a kneel to fire his MA5B's underslung grenade launcher at a cluster of hostiles who shortly became an unrecognizable pile of carbon-scorched scrap metal.

"Help!" the Spartan heard over the din of rapid gunfire. It sounded like a woman.

"Help, somebody, we're pinned!" another voice, a young male called out.

Jerome zeroed in on a pit nine rows ahead with high stacks of light cargo containers piled to shoulder-height up on a tugger-cart and a number of cylons trying to breach the barricade.

 _"Douglas, friendlies under fire. Assist!"_

Douglas' status light blinked green on Jerome's HUD and a quarter-second later, he saw the Spartan flash past his periphery at a full sprint.

\\\\\O/

"Shit, shit, shit!" Reilly cursed as he fired wildly at the Centurion throwing aside a crate that made up their improvised barricade. Unfortunately, for him along with deckhands Diana Seelix and Anthony Figurski huddled with him behind his damaged Viper, the pilot's shaking hand kept him from hitting a single shot on the cylon.

"Frak, give me the gun!" a wide eyed and terrified but slightly more composed Seelix demanded of Reilly. "You're not hitting it!"

"Yes I am!" he denied in panic right before the Centurion's gun began to unfold. It never got the chance to fire a single shot as a mass collided with it. Falling in from up above, a humanoid figure appeared, equal in size but of greater mass than the Centurion who had been violently slammed against the left support beam. The armored behemoth had a death-grip on the cylon's unfolded right gun-arm, crushing the metal in its grip with what must have been hundreds of pounds of force while the left hand had hold of a knife _somehow_ buried into the Centurion's shoulder through the plate metal. The olive figure then ripped the cylon's arm from its joint in a shower of bright electrical sparks with no problem whatsoever. Crippled, the advantage was pressed by kicking out the cylon's left leg and then taking hold of its oddly shaped head with both armored hands. And in a moment the two deckhands would never forget, they watched the Centurion's head get ripped off of its soon limp body, complete with a light trickle of black oil sliding down its chest piece.

The victory was cut short when a Centurion beyond the barricade fired a burst of its guns into their rescuer's side only to have a golden sheet envelop its form. It quickly returned the fire, killing two more Centurions with a weapon it pulled from its right thigh. More gunfire sounded, drawing close. From their position, they saw two more appear in the center of the deck, like the other, sheets of gold enveloping them when the cylon's bullets struck to no visual harm. The first figure reclaimed its knife and then all three left together to continue their advance without a word said.

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **VIPER SQUADRON 3**

 **CAPTAIN KARA (STARBUCK) THRACE, VIPER 8757**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **1 HOUR 57 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"That's TWO! Woohoo!" Starbuck shouted in victory as the Target-One Basestar erupted in a series of bright fireballs brought on from the joint barrage of _Galactica_ and Spirit's guns. In the end, it was _Galactica_ who had claimed the kill with a final volley to its critically damaged center mass. Frak, they actually might pull this off, she thought with a bit of optimism. _Galactica_ had almost completed her full turn around the dying basestar, on a path to fly directly over where the first hairball had taken place before the four squadrons had moved on to kill the bandits from the Target-One Basestar with 4th Squadron. Several kilometers away, barely within visual range the Raptor squadron lead by Helo was still sticking close to the bombers of the Thirteenth Tribe and their two squadrons of Longswords. Meanwhile _Spirit of Fire_ was off on the Galactica's far port, more than two kilometers out at carom negative-11 but almost seven kilometers ahead of _Galactica_ as she came out of her much wider arc, still firing off her interceptor missiles against the constant barrage of the cylons' ship-to-ship missiles.

"Vipers form up on me, we still got plenty of bandits inbound! Squadrons sound-off, I want a head count!" Starbuck ordered before she maneuvered her Viper to head toward the approaching basestars and their fighter wings. A series of 'copies' were given in return.

" _My Squadron is down three birds."_ Captain Richardson of 4th (Demons) Squadron reported in.

" _I saw Ditz buy it."_ Hot Dog reported as the Vipers began coming in and forming up in the classic X pattern formation.

" _That's it, I didn't see anyone else."_ Captain Birch, the leader of 1st (Primus) Squadron. reported. _"Those Longswords might be the size of a damn airliner but they sure give decent fire support."_

" _Yeah, when they're not fraking stealing your kills."_ Kat chimed in.

" _Then maybe you should learn to shoot better little lady."_ Came that familiar voice over the wireless channel from the Thirteenth Tribe fighters as they soared in both above and below the much smaller Mk. II and Mk. VII Vipers. Many of them were marked with impacts from the Raiders' guns but for the most part they looked little worse for wear.

"Okay who the frak is this?" Starbuck demanded.

 _"Lieutenant Colonel McCullen, UNSC Air Force, callsign Celtic. And you're welcome."_ He replied with slight but detectable air of superiority.

"For, what?" Starbuck mocked half seriously. "Soaking up all the bullets for us?"

 _"Hey, some of us have to fight. Better to do it in a real bird an' not those little hatchlings of yours."_

Starbuck could hardly believe what that man just dared to call the Vipers. With a half-cocked grin, she began collecting her focus and amping herself up for the next dogfight with the cylons. "Oh-ho-ho, it's on now," Starbuck assured. "We'll see who'll be buying the first round after the final kill-count's in."

 **APRIL 16 2534, 1730 HOURS**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE CFV-88**

 **MAIN BRIDGE**

 **2 HOURS AFTER CONTACT**

Cutter leaned forward in his chair, staring out the observation window at the three ever growing ugly star-shaped warships. Galactica's 'pursuing hostile force' Adama spoke of. An explanation James had been initially skeptical of until the five unidentified ships jumped in out of nowhere and opened fire on the Spirit unprovoked. Just like the Covenant had at Harvest. "Serina, status?" he requested.

"Hull plating's taken some hits but nothing Mister Prescott and his engineers can't buff out." Serina replied.

"Status on our MAC guns?" Cutter moved on.

"All three barrels are hot and ready on your word."

"Target the vessel to port. Fire guns one and two, then maneuver to fire on the center vessel with the Number Three gun."

Though Cutter couldn't see her at the moment, Serina's holographic form nodded her head. "Aye sir, sending." Said with a tone of subdued enjoyment in her work.

In a flash, the tungsten slug smashed into the center mass of the basestar's top section at just under light-speed, obliterating it from the lower portion of the ship with all three of its arms tumbling wildly away in a wide field of debris drifting away at high-velocity. The second slug hit in a similar position on the lower half with much the same effect. A twirling broken aft arm came tumbling around, striking the starboard 'side' of the already crumbling central stalk and quickened its destruction with what was left becoming gradually consumed with internal detonations that would reduce the cylon warship to little more than another debris field much to the awe of the Colonial pilots.

Petty Officer Green at the helm then maneuvered the Spirit, adjusting just a few degrees starboard to sight in on the second target.

"Fire!" Cutter ordered.

"Sending." Lieutenant Travis confirmed.

Spirit of Fire's Number 3 MAC Gun flashed as did the target basestar as it disappeared in a bright sweeping flash. A second later the other remaining vessel flashed away as well.

Captain Cutter stood up from his chair, not quite believing what he had just seen. "Someone tell me what just happened!"

"Exotic sub-atomic particle detection at the former sites of the enemy warships." Lieutenant Blake, the Sensors Officer reported from his station at the right arc of the bridge.

"Now that's what I'd call one _hell_ of a quick hand." Cutter heard his ship's AI speak with a tone of voice that honestly sounded impressed.

The Captain turned about to face her holo-tank a few feet back. "What happened?"

"Near as I can guess, the enemy warship was able to predict the moment we were about to fire based on data they must have gathered on the MAC's electromagnetic signature when we destroyed the other two vessels and performed an FTL jump to avoid the impact."

"That's impossible," Cutter denied. "The timing needed to accomplish that isn't within the realm of human reaction time."

"Well they did, whoever or _whatever_ they are." Serina said with uncertainty.

Cutter swung back around in a quick turn of a step, a light grunt of a growl heard from his throat as he looked to the sensor display up on the monitor that hung from the ceiling. "Do we have their current position, are they still in the vicinity Lieutenant Larson?"

He shook his head. "No change on short or long range sensors but in this star system there are as many blind spots as the Spirit has screws in her."

"Damn it!" Cutter cursed under his breath. The UNSC Captain breathed for a brief couple of seconds as he strategized his aging ship's next move. "Lieutenant Travis, are the Archer Pods still hot?"

"Yes sir," The nasally voiced young Lieutenant said, turning to the Captain "But with only nine left from our previous engagement and twenty minutes until MAC charge, I estimate we'll only have enough offensive firepower to maybe cripple or destroy a single ship."

And with all those pilots out there, the Spirit's store of Shiva nuclear missiles was out of the question. James returned to his chair and strapped himself back in, with that enemy air wing inbound intent on taking the Spirit and those two warships still possibly out there, it was a sure thing things were going to get bumpy. "Helm ease us to starboard, move us closer to our fighter group before the enemy intercepts us and then cut our speed to provide local anti-fighter support."

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **GALACTICA VIPER WING**

 **CAPTAIN KARA (STARBUCK) THRACE, VIPER 8757**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **2 HOURS 4 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"Tally bandits!" Starbuck called out. ' _A lot of fraking bandits,'_ she thought. In the distance, the brick-shaped cylon boarding craft along with several squadron-sized group of Raiders began peeling off on a direct path for the Thirteenth Tribe ship a few kilometers off to Kara's left. _'And their goes our ship-based support.'_ Kara thought again, knowing the Spirit's anti-fighter defenses would be otherwise occupied with keeping Centurion boarding parties from setting metallic foot on the ship. "Looks like the Turkeys are breaking off and headed for _Spirit of Fire_. Two-Times," Kara communicated to the fellow Captain. "You get a chance, break off a few Vipers and pursue."

" _Breaker Squadron,"_ Colonel McCullen designated. _"Break off bomber escort and intercept immediately."_ He ordered.

" _This is Helo, I'm having all Raptors equipped with Javelin pods break off to head your way."_

"Copy Helo. Celtic, what about the bombers?" Starbuck questioned.

" _Reaper Squadron are big lads, they can handle themselves, don't'cha worry. Besides…we got plenty to worry about ourselves."_ McCullen ended with a greater air of seriousness. _"Cutthroat Squadron, fire all remaining missiles on my mark. Wide dispersal."_

"Vipers, if you're packing arrows now's the time to put them to use." Kara instructed as she looked on anxiously at the cloud of incoming Raiders numbering in the high hundreds or low thousands.

The distance was closing fast. "Come on, come on!" The ace pilot spoke to herself in her helmet to focus her nerves while she disengaged the safety on her payload of Javelin Missiles. Kara could swear she could see the sweeping red eyes of the Raiders now. The green light on her Viper's instruments blinked on and she heard the locking tone of targets on her DRADIS, only just barely keeping herself from hitting the launch button.

On the far left the Spirit opened up with her missile turrets on the approaching Heavy Raiders, launching dozens of her arrows at the approaching hoard.

" _Longswords, mark! Weapons free!"_ On his word, the Longsword pilots launched their remaining missiles, far greater than the first barrage Kara witnessed at the start of all this, accelerating faster than anything the Colonies or cylons for that matter had for fighter-based munitions.

"Vipers, weapons free!" Starbuck ordered as she hit the button on her joystick. The Javelins launched one by one from the Vipers who had them, streaking ahead just as the first missiles from the Longswords impacted the Raiders. With all eight Javelins launched, Starbuck's bay was empty, she just hoped none of them double-locked with the target of a missile from another Viper.

" _Spirit's missiles aren't engaging the bogeys."_ A pilot called out. Glancing left against her better judgement, Kara did indeed see the first barrage of defensive missiles completely ignore the Heavy Raiders and shoot past them, instead homing in on the main body of enemy fighters.

" _Cutthroat-One to Spirit Actual what the hell are you doin', you got boarding craft inbound!" McCullen shouted irate. "Shoot'em down for Christ's sake!" he begged desperately._

A familiar voice answered the Lieutenant-Colonel's call Starbuck recognized as Captain Cutter's _. "That's a negative Cutthroat. We have Marines on standby to repel the boarders but if we lose you Spirit won't have any fighters left. Good luck, Spirit of Fire Actual out."_

" _Damn it!"_ McCullen growled at the moment the first tracers began to fire on both sides. The Javelins speared a growing number of bandits as the Vipers and Longswords began painting the space ahead with long dashing lines with their tracers and the cylons painting their own. Spirit's missiles hit the right flank of the Raider mass, swatting them out of the sky in a broad explosive stroke but even all that and everything else they'd thrown at the cylon Raiders still didn't even come close to evening the odds.

" _Gods, I'm hit! Krypter, krypter, kryp-"_ the transmission cut out as the Mk. VII Viper's engines blew.

" _Stones?"_ Captain Birch called out as he narrowly escaped a Raider's burst by gunning his port thrusters.

" _He's gone."_ Someone else said.

"Squadron on me, stick close to the Longswords!" As before, the Longswords had opted to take the lead and with heavier armor than a Viper, Starbuck wasn't inclined to disagree, in fact she planned to use that. Cutthroat Squadron hadn't broken rank yet, pushing as a unified wedge into the mass of Raider, each of the fighters inverted to the other to give their ventral turrets equal spread against the swarm of bandits. "Wait for it," she ordered "Hold fire unless you got a clear shot!"

" _Canopy's been punctured, we've lost pressure! Hannigan is gone!"_ Came a transmission from one of the Cutthroats.

" _Keep firing!"_ McCullen ordered as the Cutthroats continued scrapping as many Raiders as they could.

On the right, a Raider ran headfirst into a Longsword's cockpit, obliterating itself in a crunch of metal and synthetic blood, smashing the front of the nose in. The Vipers behind barely had a second to dodge the remaining two-thirds of the craft. _"Cutthroat-Eight is down!"_

When they had just about gotten through the storm of Raiders and weathered their cold fire, Starbuck gave the order. "Alright Vipers, turn to engage!" The last Raiders now past, the Vipers braked their reverse thrusters and kicked their RCS jets to pull a 180 degree turn in the span of less than half a second before again gunning their main engines while the Longswords had to opt for a wider turnabout. Ahead of Starbucks Vipers, the toasters' asses were just hanging in the breeze for them like she planned.

Far to Starbuck's left, the Longswords of Breaker Squadron had their hands full as their own groups of cylon Raiders kept them from engaging the Heavies flooding into the twin hangars on the Spirit of Fire's topside bow even after they had expended their own missiles to cut down the cylons' numbers. They just hoped the Marines inside could hold their own just one more time.

 **APRIL 16 2534, 1738 HOURS**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE CFV-88**

 **STARBOARD LANDING DECK**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **2 HOURS 8 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

Within the interior of the landing deck, one of the face-sporting dark grey boarding craft was attempting to land only for it to be shorn apart by the twin rail cannons of the Cobra Tank Destroyer Major Markov had ordered up. It was full capacity at this party anyway with the current occupation of zombie-like horde of robotic boarders doing battle against two companies of battle-tested Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. Dumb bots must have thought the bridge was at the top of the ship not the bottom, though the ODSTs had barely enough time to move the small number of combat barriers and crates into position before the chrome-covered bastards started flooding in. A good half dozen of the hideous boarding craft had already set down inside the hangar and a solid dozen more were parked outside on the runway. The Major couldn't imagine the deafening noise that would have filled the hangar there was still air in it with near a thousand guns firing at once in the enclosed space.

The Cobra fired its 30mm cannons again, blasting apart one of the landed transports and raining shrapnel down on the robots further back, not that they cared much, the tin-men just kept marching forward firing the guns built into their arms indifferent to the world around save what they could shoot. Taking cover beside it Markov sighted the optical scope of his battle rifle in on one that came into view, landing a burst of three rounds on the right side of its face and dropping it to the deck.

"Damn it Serina, I said I want Scorpions up here! Where the fuck is that bald bastard Burke? he cursed into his helmet's mic.

" _Major Burke is on his way, said he wanted to bring you something special."_ Serina said with a knowing tone.

"Don't bullshit me little-miss-Pinocchio, I got enough problems." He growled back with his usual charm. To the right, a Warthog LRV performed a drive-by with an ODST manning its rear mounted M41 Vulcan and claiming several 'kills' with the 12.7mm HMG, as false as it was to kill something that was never alive to begin with.

"All hands," Serina called out with warning on all radio channels. "Brace, brace, brace! Nuclear imp-"

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **GALACTICA VIPER WING**

 **CAPTAIN KARA (STARBUCK) THRACE, VIPER 8757**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **2 HOURS 11 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

Two bright flashes signaled the rejoining of the two cylon basestars and they were right on top of the _Spirit of Fire_. One just aft of her on her port side less than three kilometers away at carom negative-9 and the other to the Spirit's immediate port at carom 30 a similar distance away. The moment they jumped in Kara's DRADIS alarmed with multiple nuclear contacts with not even enough time to call out a warning. On the Spirit's starboard side she could see, the closest basestar fire a full tactical nuclear salvo at what was practically point-blank range. Spirit's ATAF defenses halted a good many, but not enough. Two bright fireballs bloomed against the armor on her amidships and the top of the bulky starboard side engine pod, boiling away its armor with nuclear star fire. Kara counted at least another flare of light emanating from the port side aft.

" _Galactica_ , this is Starbuck, the basestars are back and they're hitting _Spirit of Fire_ with nukes!" Starbuck communicated back.

" _Galactica copies Starbuck,"_ Dualla answered. _"The Admiral is working on a solution now. Continue engaging the Raiders at this time. Do you copy?"_

"Copy!" Starbuck replied clearly for the notoriously jumbled wireless. "Well you better work fast," Starbuck said to herself a second before she took a passing shot at a target of opportunity.

The big old girl wasn't giving up though and a staggering amount, it must have been hundreds of missiles arced forth on silver contrails from the Spirit's wing to make the cylons pay in equal measure for their ambush.

Starbuck caught the numerous impacts out of the corner of her eye as she banked in on another Raider's tail and killed it in a bloody, fiery explosion. One more bandit down, she glanced over to survey the damage, so numerous the impacts were on the basestar, the cylon warship was actually pushed backward by the explosive force. Half the ship now looked as though it were a half-dead tree with its outer shell so damaged it looked more akin to burnt bark and its lower arms reduced to thick stumps half the size they originally were.

A Raider was coming at Starbuck head on with its guns blazing, thinking it could play chicken with her and get in on her six when she would turn, toaster didn't know what pilot it was playing with. Her Viper dodged the streams of tracers coming her way and then she cut her engines when it got within two-hundred meters. Starbuck engaged the RCS on the top rear of her bird, pushing it down and turning her nose up in a synchronous maneuver. By then the Raider was about to fly over her, practically putting its chin over the barrel of her guns. Fraker never had a chance as she adorned it with ten pairs of holes up into its belly.

" _We got Raiders breaking through, they're headed for the Spirit!"_ Came Kat's voice over the wireless.

" _I'm reading nukes aboard those Raiders."_ Birch notified with concern apparent in his voice even over the wireless.

"Catman, take two of your birds and pursue, Kat and I will cover you." Starbuck ordered as she fired the left nose-ports of her RCS to turn before hitting the throttle on her way out of the hairball.

" _Copy,"_ Birch confirmed. _"Vittles, Rowboat, you're with me, we're hard burning after them!"_

Next McCullen's voice came to the forefront. _"Cutthroat-Ten join up ta' hunt'em down. Reaper Squadron, escort the Shortswords to hit that ship Spirit just nailed with 'er Archers. I want that thing in so many pieces Serina couldn't count'em all!"_

" _Copy!"_

" _Squadrons copy, we are moving to engage!"_

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR GALACTICA BS-75**

 **CIC**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **2 HOURS 13 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"Report of multiple nuclear strikes on _Spirit of Fire_ , engines seem inoperable. Target-Five Basestar suffering from extensive hull damage. Raptors report Target-Three Basestar is receiving light anti-ship missile fire from _Spirit of Fire_ against weapons systems. Friendly fighters and bombers are inbound on Target-Five for strike mission-wait..." Gaeta paused. "A large number of cylon Raiders are breaking off to intercept. Strike mission will be delayed, no ETA at this time." he reported to Admiral Adama who although seemed ignorant to his Tactical Officer's statement as his eyes were set on the DRADIS screen above the command station, he heard every word.

All cards were on the table now, there was no denying _Spirit of Fire_ was in all likelihood a ship belonging to the Thirteenth Tribe and Bill knew for certain the cylons wanted it dead at all costs, continuing the attack even after the complete loss of three basestars. They were trying to go through her engines to detonate whatever kind of reactor she had, which Bill had a suspicion might be fission or possibly the holy grail of space travel: fusion drives. Much to the cylon's chagrin, it looked like Spirit was built fairly well but still couldn't help but suffer the localized effects of the EMP blast generated by the strikes, making her effectively dead in the water. The question was what to do next? The Target-Three Basestar was the biggest threat to both ships right now, fully armed and suffering from negligible damage it could easily take on the _Galactica_. The problem was the Target-Five Basestar was directly in Galactica's path with its undamaged, mission-capable side still facing the grand old lady.

Bill only saw a few options, all of them dangerous and put the battlestar at serious risk but he knew full well he had to try. If he let the cylons destroy _Spirit of Fire_ then the Fleet would lose their greatest shot of ever finding Earth, dooming them to roam system to system until cylons or an act of the Gods brought about their end.

"Set a course for the Target-Five Basestar, full speed ahead. Have the bow batteries load a salvo of long-range flak shells. All damage control teams and personnel are to withdraw from the bow sections forward of the CIC and seal the bulkheads. Move missile tubes one and two into firing position." Adama ordered, bringing the eyes of several officers to him and he did his best to pay it little mind. "Set target package coordinates for the Target-Three Basestar." The CIC staff moved on, seeing the full seriousness of his intent all except Bill's trusted XO who stared at him from a few feet away.

"What are you thinking Bill?" the pale half balding old man asked of his friend with equal measures of trust and worry.

Adama with his natural gravitas, turned his head slightly to meet Saul's eyes. "That sometimes you have to roll the hard six."

"We take _Galactica_ in between those basestars, nukes or no nukes it'll be the end of her." Tigh told him in a subdued tone.

"We lose that ship, we lose Earth." Bill replied. "Input your launch code Colonel."

With his trust in Bill, Colonel Tigh moved to the number pad and entered his command code then stepped aside for Bill to enter his.

"Launch codes confirmed, target package is locked." Lieutenant Gaeta stated. "Ready to fire on your order Admiral."

\\\\\O/

 _Galactica_ roared ahead through the black with all four engine pod thrusters and the two emergency thrusters on her aft burning short frosty blue trails against the void. The moment she came within the Target-Five Basestar's maximum range, it let off as many missiles as it could fire in a single salvo. The veteran battlestar's defenses acted accordingly with her bow turret batteries launching the long-range flak shells and every available ICWS emplacement directing their fire forward to put as much high-velocity shrapnel between _Galactica_ and the basestar as the guns were capable of. _Galactica_ was within two kilometers when it adjusted its heading just slightly to port and withdrew her flight pods into the battlestar's main body. Two cylon anti-ship missiles penetrated Galactica's umbrella and struck upon the slope of her bow, causing minor damage to her supplementary armor plating.

The call went out on wireless, heard by all of Galactica's crew including Starbuck and the other pilots who suddenly felt a chill rush over them.

" _All hands brace, brace, brace!"_

At full speed, the Battlestar _Galactica_ rammed headfirst into the upper forward arm of the basestar. The hulking Colonial ship's aft bucked up and to port as it tore through the basestar's arm like a car through a brick wall.

Back in the CIC, everyone was holding on for dear life as the ship's artificial gravity struggled to compensate for the heavy g-forces being put on the ship.

"Launch the nukes!" Adama yelled.

The moment seemed to last forever as Felix Gaeta struggled to steady his arm enough to hit the launch button.

But he did, and the two launch tubes atop _Galactica_ sent their packages, arcing lazily around to their target coordinates due to their comparatively inefficient RCS systems and struck. The nukes detonated almost simultaneously a good hundred meters apart. The internal superstructure of an upper arm was broken from within by the detonation force with only the outer hull to barely hold it on. The second bright flare of light washed over the central stalk, inflicting serious damage to both the hull and internal components.

It was the best shot Adama could think of to buy _Spirit of Fire_ some time to recover.

 **APRIL 16 2534, 1738 HOURS**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE CFV-88**

 **BRIDGE**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **2 HOURS 18 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

Up until a second ago, things were looking quite grim for Serina and the _Spirit of Fire_. Engines 2, 3 and 5 were critically damaged and the other 3 were down due to the nuclear electromagnetic pulse. With no Archer Pods left, deck turrets out of range of their firing arcs and her MAC guns only at 89% charge, there was no mistake Serina felt relieved. Now that she had a few milliseconds while that enemy warship recovered she could divert more of her processing power away from her direct control over the ATAF missile shield and to rerouting plasma from the fusion reactors to the emergency engines which hadn't seen use or test in nearly four years.

' _Oh, come on!'_ the AI begged the cold lifeless systems as they resisted her attempts to power them up with a painstaking slowness. On the old converted colony ship's aft, the two much smaller thrust nozzles coughed to life, at first gently edging the Spirit forward easing into a pondering crawl that was its new top speed but at least she could move.

Appearing back on her holo-tank inside the Bridge, Serina notified the Captain. "Sir, I've reestablished sub-light engine thrust with the emergency backups."

"Then I guess we have _Galactica_ to thank for that." Cutter spoke with a sense of relief. "Petty Officer Green, hard to starboard and begin a forty-five-degree starboard rotation."

"Maneuvering now sir." Came his succinct reply.

Lieutenant Travis, have the deck guns open up on the enemy warship to our aft once we come about. Serina, get ready hit those fighters with every missile we have, this needs to end now!"

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **GALACTICA VIPER WING**

 **CAPTAIN KARA (STARBUCK) THRACE, VIPER 8757**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **2 HOURS 19 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

The battle was taking its toll on the Colonial pilots, four more Vipers were gone along with their pilots. Baby Face, Skids, Princess, Circus, all gone. It would have been a lot worse if the Longswords weren't there to draw off most of the fire. Which was the only reason why they were surviving as long as they were.

Starbuck banked in behind a pair of Raiders tailing one of the Longswords from Cutthroat Squadron. The fighter rolled three times in the span of a second to confuse the cylon's targeting, and keep their attention while Starbuck laid a burst right into one canner's ass, blowing out its right engine and then the fuel storage in a muffled explosion that blasted off the top half of its fuselage. By the time her burst hit, the Longsword suddenly tightly pulled up a quarter way into its fourth roll. The other Raider followed and so did she. Kara still couldn't believe how fast and maneuverable those flying fortresses were. Gods, she must have been pulling six gees right then. A little juice from the RCS and Kara sighted up on the bandit. Starbuck had learned long ago to try to keep her jaw clenched when she fired the Viper's guns so the vibrations wouldn't shake any of her teeth loose. A good fifteen rounds of 30mm obliterated the main body of the Raider, leaving only its wings to continue on its final flight path.

"Tail's clear Warlock! I'll stick with you, see if we can't fish us some more bandits." It was a tactic they'd developed by accident when the Raiders had put their main focus on the Thirteenth Tribe's fighters, judging how hard they'd hit the Spirit, the toasters wanted to wipe them all out to keep the Fleet from finding Earth.

 _"Hey, Spirit, she's moving again!"_ came the call from Hot Dog.

Far off Starbuck could see the long oddly designed ship lurching forward, amazing it could move at all after taking two nukes in the ass. From Starbuck's position, it looked like Spirit was moving to come about, hopefully to assist _Galactica_ after that fraking insane stunt the Old Man pulled. After this Adama had no place calling her out for the risks she took on a semi-regular basis. Right now it looked like _Galactica_ and her crew were still recovering from the impact, her engines firing in short independent bursts to stabilize her flight path. Hopefully nothing was too broke for the Chief to fix it. Her flak was still working hard to stave off the volleys of missiles being sent at it by the Target-Three Basestar but Starbuck saw Galactica take at least one hit on her back.

" _Spirit of Fire Actual to all Longsword crews and Colonial pilots,"_ Captain Cutter's voice came over the wireless. _"Prepare to break off engagement and move to assist bomber squadron on my signal. The Spirit will be firing all available ATAF missile turrets in effort to eliminate the enemy fighter force. Move on my order or you will be stuck in the kill-zone."_

"Squadron did you copy that?" Starbuck requested of the pilots under her who sounded off shortly. "Two-Times?"

" _We heard it Starbuck. Squadron Four copies."_

A confirmation from one squadron leader, now all the needed was a second. "Catman, what's your status, can you break off pursuit?"

" _Just mopped up the last of the nuke-haulers. We'll be forming up with Breaker Squadron on our way to Target-Five."_

"Copy that, don't get lost."

By then the _Spirit of Fire_ was well into coming about. From this distance the Colonial pilots could make out the multiple launch bays lining its lower hull. Guarding those bays were a large portion of Spirit's anti-tactical-anti-fighter missile turrets resided. Only half the size of a Warthog, they were normally recessed into the hull during non-combat operations, across the ship there were well over a thousand of them total, making for a formidable defense. Meanwhile the turrets of its top deck now had the Target-Three Basestar well within their firing arcs, evidenced only by the amount impacts the basestar was receiving as the slugs hammered the weapon emplacements threatening _Galactica_ with pure kinetic energy.

Starbuck's bicep was almost twitching expectantly for the order to come at any moment. Probably sorting out the target acquisition given that the Vipers and Raptors didn't have recognizable IFF's in them, she guessed.

" _Break now!"_ the order came. Starbuck rolled and pulled up in the direction of the basestar before hard-burning it as fast as she could out of there. In perfect unison, the collection of UNSC and Colonial craft maneuvered as one like some grand old flight show, soon to be complete with fireworks as Spirit fired several volleys from her belly. The cylon Raiders were disoriented by the mass maneuver before their own DRADIS systems picked up the storm of missiles locked on to themselves. One could see a moment of panic almost, like bees alerted to the presence of predatory wasps approaching.

Starbuck didn't bother to make the rookie mistake of looking back, only to the icons on her DRADIS screen. "Come on, come on." She prayed for the missiles to hit.

A roar of cheers, hoots and laughter soon erupted over the wireless from pilots belonging to of all tribes as the red icons on Starbuck's DRADIS blinked off in a great sweeping wave.

"Yeah, frak you canners!" Kara joined in adding a couple laughs at the end.

Barely any fighters left and two more heavily damaged basestars to go, Starbuck couldn't help but cock a grin to the side of her mouth, it would only be a few minutes before they reached the last group of Raiders harrying Reaper Squadron just three kilometers away. The bombers however were far off from the basestar on the far left one and a half times the distance the Vipers and Longswords were currently which made sense. Likely they'd peeled off to get distance when the cylons beelined it in their direction and didn't want to be anywhere near the warship without interceptors and some good ECM to give them cover.

"Reestablish formation. Raptors, let's bring it in. we're going to hit that basestar hard with everything we got before it has a chance to lay into _Galactica._ " Starbuck ordered, seeing the basestar turning about to face its undamaged side to the old battlestar.

" _Don't think anything can hit it harder than that ship of yours just did but let's give it our regards."_ McCullen communicated on the wireless.

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR GALACTICA BS-75**

 **CIC**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **2 HOURS 20 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

A hearty grunt escaped Admiral Adama's throat as he hauled himself up to the command station, nearby Saul did the same, a slight trickle of blood coming off his brow when he had struck it on something during the collision. A second grunt came out when Bill pulled himself from his knee to fully standing. "Damage Control?" he asked with some strain in his voice.

"Multiple breaches on the bow." A shaky Petty Officer Jonah Roland called out from across the CIC. "Pressure seals are holding. All engine pods are green."

"Mister Gaeta, update status?"

" _Spirit of Fire_ is underway and coming about, engaging the Target-Three Basestar now. All enemy fighters are off the board, squadrons are moving to engage Target-Five Basestar. Raptors report Target-Three Basestar is suffering from extensive damage, offensive capability has been reduced but is continuing engagement. Our flak-" an impact interrupted the officer and shaking the CIC, brining everyone to brace themselves once more. Adama rose himself up once more, he got the message, the flak was holding their fire off but one or two always slipped through.

"Synchronize bow turret batteries and concentrate on the center mass of that basestar!" Adama roared. "Put in a full salvo then adjust heading to circle us around it!"

\\\\\O/

 _Galactica_ laid in with her six available bow turrets, firing in perfect unison at the cylon basestar, creating an arrowhead of angry shells burning a fiery path into the center of the stalk and blasting their warheads into its weakened hull, already warped and irradiated from the dual nuclear explosions. It was as if the old battlestar was trying to prove to the cylons she was as tough and mean as the day she was birthed from the dockyards above Caprica in the First Cylon War and she made a hell of an argument.

Far behind _Galactica_ , her Vipers and Raptors along with the Spirit of Fire's Longswords were coming in for their attack run with vicious intent. Approaching from the defenselessly crippled side, they faced no opposition as they were now, some as close as twenty meters from the hull. They flew around to the opposite side, hugging it so closely the basestar's missile defenses couldn't acquire weapons lock. Their guns cut apart all recognizable types of launch batteries and the pilots couldn't hide the smiles on their faces while they did so unimpeded. Vipers performed acrobatic sideward drifting strafing runs on Raider bays and point-defenses along the main body while the Raptors and Longswords made extensive gun-runs up and down the arms, leaving trails of deep scars in their wake brought on by missiles and the Longswords' hammering ventral cannons which fired almost non-stop. The formerly undamaged side of the basestar had nearly come about, with the pilots' actions undoubtedly saving _Galactica_ from almost certain destruction. They'd make sure this ship would never fire a shot in anger again before it died.

From the opposite side came the six Shortsword bombers like a pack of wolves homing in on wounded prey. A single message from the bombardiers signaled the Vipers and Longswords to finally disengage from their vengeful fun and the assortment of craft scattered in the direction of the slowly banking _Spirit of Fire_. One at a time, the Shortswords let fly their payload, each impacting the same location one after the other with a second in between each 20-megaton detonation or raw high-explosives, each digging deeper and bucking the basestar more wildly until the fourth missile detonated within the basestar's core and tearing it into two halves in a catastrophic explosion.

By the time the Target-Five Basestar had met its end, _Galactica_ had begun is circle and opened up with her topside batteries once more, giving _Spirit of Fire_ room to come in as she lined up her bow on the last cylon warship.

 **APRIL 16 2534, 1745 HOURS**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE CFV-88**

 **BRIDGE**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **2 HOURS 25 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"MAC guns charged, ready to fire on you order Captain. Just give me the word." Serina said, dropping her air of humor and snark in light of what these 'cylons' as she heard the Colonials call them over their radio frequencies, did to her ship and tried to do to the men and women under Serina's charge to protect.

Captain Cutter stood himself from his chair and began walking to the wall-sized observation window as he often did. He preferred it to relying on instruments. As practical as those were, they still lacked the personal feeling that he got when he set sight on the enemy as though he were looking them in the eye. Since the warship hadn't attempted to jump away in the face of the inevitable, it was a fair guess that Galactica's nuke strikes had knocked the FTL system out of commission, this bastard wasn't getting away this time.

"Permission to fire granted, single round. Put it through the lower half of that thing to disable it, we'll finish it off with the deck guns."

"Aye sir," Serina agreed enthusiastically, a slow death it was and she was more than fine with it. "Sending."

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **GALACTICA VIPER WING**

 **CAPTAIN KARA (STARBUCK) THRACE, VIPER 8757**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **2 HOURS 26 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

Again, Starbuck got to witness that electric flash and the devastation that followed the firing of the Spirit's main guns and she still found it unbelievable to say the least. Whatever that thing fired struck low on the last basestar, entering through one side and severing the port stern arm off at the base following its messy exit which Kara's mind likened to a shotgun slug going through a torso. A tunnel big enough for two Raptors to fly through abreast was left raggedly through, bleeding flames and atmosphere with its superstructure so devastated it didn't have a hope of surviving an FTL jump even if it could. After that, Spirit began to head left and tilt starboard to give her turret batteries clear firing lines.

 _"Vipers, ease down on the throttle, they've got this handled themselves. Let's jus' sit back an' enjoy the show."_ Kara heard McCullen say with a relaxed tone that gave her the impression that the Fraker could and probably was putting his feet up in that big corvette of his but she couldn't argue and let herself gain some measure of relief. A minute longer and the basestar ceased firing, likely disabled due to all the trauma it had taken.

 _"Man watch them go to town on that thing..."_ Starbuck heard Duck say over the wireless.

It was hard not to, such an awe inspiring display of firepower could have given chills to anyone. _Galactica_ and _Spirit of Fire_ together chewed down the remaining arms with focused salvo fire from their batteries. A couple minutes more passed with the guns working their way down to the main body that held the more vital components. Spirit put so many holes up and down the thing, it was inevitable really when a salvo of explosive shells from _Galactica_ ignited the tylium venting into space and throughout the basestar. The explosions chained outward from where the initial shells had hit until the entire ship was almost entirely consumed in the climactic moment of its death.

 **APRIL 16 2534, 1748 HOURS**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE CFV-88**

 **BRIDGE**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **2 HOURS 28 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"All enemy ships destroyed!" Lieutenant Larson announced to the celebration of the Bridge crew.

 _"Bridge, this is Markov,"_ the Major reported in. _"Landing deck is secured, all hostiles eliminated. Now all the deck-rats need to do is clear out this mess and our birds can land."_

Cutter was currently stood beside the holotable, observing a schematic of the Spirit displaying the damage she'd taken. He paused from his slightly worrying overview to communicate back. "Copy that Major, I'll see that your unit will receive a commendation for its actions."

Before Cutter could resume, Serina appeared at her holotank adjacent to him. "Captain?"

"Yes, Serina?" he answered passively.

"Should we reengage the _Galactica_?" she said in full seriousness. That brought the Captain's attention to her. "Two of our MAC guns are still hot and I've gotten word from the Spartans. They've set explosives in the Galactica's flight pod. By my calculations, the resulting explosion would cause enough damage to keep her fighters from landing to resupply and Lieutenant-Colonel McCullen's Fighter Group are in a perfect position to engage them." Serina advised.

Cutter gave no immediate reply, nor any indication by his expression on what his he thought of Serina's plan. The rest of the Bridge crew fell silent once they too heard the words from their shipboard AI. A quiet thirty seconds followed while the Captain deliberated, knowing there would be risks with any decision he made. "Serina, hail the _Galactica_."

"Aye, sir. Connection established."

Raising his head Cutter spoke clearly. " _Spirit of Fire_ Actual to the Battlestar _Galactica_ , do you copy?"

A second followed before the fuzzy reply came from the Galactica's outdated radio transmitters. _"This is Galactica Actual, we are receiving your signal Spirit of Fire."_ Cutter and the crew heard Admiral Adama's translated voice reply.

Cutter took one final determining breath. " _Galactica_ Actual…are you in need of assistance?" he finally asked.

 **Author's Note: MAC guns with BSG's high-realism are fun to write. I tried to write the Viper bits and dialogue as canonically accurate as possible but the Colonial air wing's organization was never really well defined in the show so I had to make a few assumptions and take liberties with the information at hand. After this I'll do one or two more chapters focusing on exploring the developing relations between Spirit of Fire and the Colonial Fleet ('bout to get political as frak up in here!) If you have any ideas for actors or actresses who could play a role, let me know, I already got a lot of the major players aboard the Spirit filled out. You'll get a kick out of who I picked as the Chief Engineer and the commander of the Marine Regiment. After that I need to give Second Chances some much needed attention, I really did not expect Guiding Fire to get as much attention as it is. Thank you all so much.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire**

(A Battlestar Galactica-Halo Wars crossover)

Episode 2

Heritage: Part 1

 _With_

 _Gideon Emery as Captain James Cutter_

 _Faye Kingslee as Ellen Anders_

 _Courtenay Taylor as Serina_

 _Rob Mayes as Jerome-092_

 _Zachary Quinto as Petty Officer Jonathan Green_

 _Chiwetel Ejiofor as Lieutenant Isaac Larson_

 _Guest Starring Shia LaBeouf as Ensign Reilly_

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: ANYTHING NOT EXPRESSLY CANON WILL NOW BE STATED IN THESE NOTES. I KEEP THE WIKI'S OF BOTH PROPERTIES OPEN WHEN I'M WRITING TO ENSURE ACCURACY AND DOUBLE CHECK MY FACTS. IF YOU HAVE A CRITICISM ABOUT ME BEING SUPPOSEDLY OFF-CANON, LOOK IT UP BEFORE YOU REVIEW.**

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **49,564 SURVIVORS**

 **GALACTICA VIPER WING**

 **CAPTAIN KARA (STARBUCK) THRACE, VIPER 8757**

 **2 HOURS 48 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

A strange and awkward silence followed in the aftermath of the pitched battle, the remnants of which floated in a wide semi-irradiated cloud in the shrinking distance behind the Battlestar _Galactica_ and the _Spirit of Fire_. The pair of far-flung warships now were limping toward the safety of the Colonial Fleet and more importantly, the Battlestar _Pegasus_. Side by side and only a couple kilometers apart, they flew together while repair crews of both ships went to work on the myriad of damages they both had suffered at the hands of the mutual enemy that forced the formerly belligerent factions to cooperate in the face of impending destruction.

For the Colonials, it was particularly uncomfortable knowing they'd almost accidentally gone to war with the very people they were hoping would save them from the cylons.

" _Pelican Bravo Zero-Eight-Four to Viper escort flight, we are inbound to Galactica to assist. Try not to shoot us down this time."_ The pilot of the D77-TC Pelican dropship communicated condescendingly as it and another departed from a lower hangar on the Spirit's starboard side.

"If anyone dares take a shot at either of those birds without my permission, I'll have you court-martialed in front of the Admiral." Instantly came Starbuck's ultimatum in light of recent events. "Which reminds me… Racetrack, Skulls, I want your asses in the ready room the second your Raptor is in the hangar." She ordered with a tone of sturdy authority. "I'm going to put my boot up to the ankle in the both of you. Or maybe I'll take turns with the XO. You can bet your flight status he won't be happy." Starbuck continued, enjoying the silent misery of the two frak-ups who were in for the ass-chewing of the millennium. Reilly would probably be in for it too. That was if he had lived through the cylon boarding action and if he did, the kid may wish he _were_ dead.

From above she watched Kat escort one Pelican to the edge of the landing deck where the crew disembarked to hook a tow cable on to one of the many empty Heavy Raiders to haul it out and make room for the Colonial pilots to land on their own gods-damned ship. It was times like these Starbuck hated that the starboard flight pod couldn't be returned to active duty but the museum conversion saw her magnetic plating stripped out.

Spirit too was having her decks scrubbed of the Turkeys she took on inside the twin hangars up on her bow as another flight of Pelicans had already dropped four of the damned things out thus far for McCullen's Longswords to then shoot the hell out of, intent on leaving nothing for the cylons to salvage later.

Off on the port side near the Spirit's darkened engines, Starbuck could see several more Pelicans working in conjunction with an equal number of blocky multi-armed craft topped with four antennae of varying length. Cutter had called them Tarantula Repair Drones when he announced their launch. The unmanned craft worked over the damaged engine nozzles like crabs grazing over a reef, repairing what they could and cutting away at the parts that weren't operable remotely. The Pelicans hauled away those more damaged components back into the larger hangars for the repair crews to work on directly. One thing was certain, the crew of the Spirit would have their work cut out for them if they wanted to get all their engines back online. From the glance Starbuck had taken immediately following the battle, most of its aft appeared to be only marginally damaged except for two of the outlying thrusters at the top right and bottom left which looked pretty well fraked by the nukes they took.

But they did it. _Galactica_ fraking did it! Starbuck thought with a smile. An honest to the Gods ship of the Thirteenth Tribe here beside her Viper, beside _Galactica_ and headed for the Colonial Fleet. Through fire and flames of utter incompetence and a cylon attack, the Twelve Tribes of Kobol had finally found their long lost sibling.

' _Earth, here we come!'_ She thought, pounding her fist on the inner hull of her Viper in celebration.

Twenty more minutes passed before the landing deck was raider-free and the clear to land given by the LSO. The Vipers belonging to Kara's squadron came in first with their fuel reserves running especially low. Ever the ace she was, her landing skids barely bounced on the magnetic plating before they ground to a halt.

The deck around the cavernous A-shaped landing hangar was chronically understaffed by aircraft handlers due to most of the airlock doors still being fused with thermite. From what she could see, only four of the tuggers had drivers on them to pull the Vipers over to the deck elevators. Thankfully being the CAG had its perks and not ever waiting was one of them as the steel-treaded cart hooked up on her forward landing skid and hauled her over to the nearest elevator. Shortly, she descended until the overhead airlock door sealed and pressurized to let Starbuck down into the hangar deck.

And boy was she surprised.

The hangar was a hive of activity with deckhands and Marines running about trying to clear the swath of Centurion corpses lying about the deck in various states of destruction ranging from simple bullet holes to crumpled piles of scrap. Before even the elevator touched the deck, Kara had opened her cockpit and partly stood to better survey the hangar. She knew a lot of them got onboard but frak…nevertheless the bigger question on her mind was, _where were all the bodies?_ The ones belonging to the Marines who fought them all off. This many Centurions didn't go down without exacting a heavy toll.

Chief Tyrol walked up just as the elevator touched down and Kara hopped down to greet him with her tucking her helmet under her arm. Of course a guy like him, a guy that survived being stranded on Kobol some one-hundred and fifty days ago made it through all this. As long as there was a Viper to tinker with or a loose bolt on _Galactica_ , the Chief wasn't going anywhere. "Chief, what the frak happened here? I was expecting a bloodbath."

He exhaled and then motioned them to walk off with a sideways nod of the head as the aircraft handlers approached to clear the elevator for the next Viper. "Nearly was." He began. "Toasters got fourteen of my knuckledraggers and about ten Marines too before they showed up."

"Who?" Starbuck demanded with an air of disbelief.

"Remember that bird of Spirit's Reilly shot down at the start of this mess? Yeah, well turns out those guys aboard survived. Breached airlock twelve on deck fourteen and stormed the CIC. Put a gun to the Admiral's head." The Chief said much to Kara's shock. "From what I hear, half the casualties in the sickbay are from them. Mostly concussions and a lot of broken bones but they'll recover, probably. After that _Baltar_ of all people managed to talk them down. And that's when those basestars jumped in."

"Frak, and they did all _this_?" Kara said skeptically, motioning her free hand to the graveyard of Centurions around being moved off into large piles inside the Viper launch tubes to be jettisoned later.

"Like nothing I've ever fraking seen. Fast, I'm talking damn-near untouchable, vaulting nine feet in the air and smashing Centurions like they were toys. Biggest one-sided fight I've ever seen. They had _fraking_ energy shields Starbuck, I swear I saw them." Chief Tyrol said, not quite believing it himself. "Then when they ran out of ammo, they pulled out knives," Beside her, Chief Tyrol shook his head in disbelief. "Fraking can openers." The Chief said stopping at an open tube and the pile inside, with Kara following his gaze to a prominently displayed Centurion atop it. It was beat to all hell, bearing a deep round indentation in its right cheek that bore resemblance to the imprint of a fist. It's right arm was also torn off at the elbow but perhaps what was the most noticeable were the group of four thin holes almost the width of her pinky set inside shallow indentations under the Centurion's left bicep, leaking hues of black brown and red over the metallic corpses under it. Kara had seen knife wounds before but it was another thing entirely seeing it done to metal which didn't seem possible, shouldn't be possible. Out of curiosity she touched the metallic wounds with her hand, feeling grooves of parted cylon metal through her glove.

Behind a tugger beeped its horn at them as it came in with four more Centurions stacked on its back to add to the pile. Taking her hand away, Starbuck and the Chief moved out and off to the side of the airlock door. "Well, where are they now? Do you know?" she asked.

Galen shook his head again. "No, I lost track of them when things started quieting down, at least in here." He amended. "They could have gone off after any cylons headed to Aft Damage Control." He was about to add something else when something behind Starbuck caught his immediate attention. "Holy shit, there they are."

Kara, turned about, instantly sighting the eye-catching seven-foot armored behemoths. She knew they were big, having seen them partially in their Pelican but it was a whole other thing seeing them walk through a crowd a head above everyone else looking like a walking tank. The trio marched forward at a brisk pace, so quickly that Starbuck found herself without a clear thought in her head, preoccupied with the sight of one casually holding a heavy machinegun and another dragging an armless Centurion by its single remaining leg, its red eye still sweeping and head moving around.

"Frak," she cursed at herself for acting like such a deer in the headlights before jogging after them. Starbuck weaved around a couple of munition techs who had stopped dragging a destroyed Centurion to look on after they passed. A little further up she passed two Marines arguing.

"Are we just going to let them have free reign of the ship?"

"You want to try to get them to the brig, go ahead, but I'm not getting near those guys without orders." The other replied.

"Hey!" Starbuck called out but it appeared they either didn't notice or thought she was yelling at someone else. Kara racked her brain to think of something that would get their attention until she recalled their earlier conversation that happened before Skulls nearly fraked everything up. "Hey, Spartan Jerome! Alice!"

Her call was answered by them halting and turning their helmet's back in her direction. It was a bit unsettling, perhaps on-par with the Adama-Glare in terms of intimidation but much more enigmatic with that golden mirror obscuring their eyes.

Starbuck slowed to a stop but was cautious to give the Centurion they were hauling a wide berth armless or not. "Frak, you actually made it out." Kara said, feeling quite small at the moment. "Uh, it's me, Starbuck." She added, still focusing her thoughts.

"Mind explaining why we were blown out of the sky?" came the feminine voice of Alice from the figure holding the unsettlingly big HMG.

Her face turned downward, realizing all too late they were probably still extremely pissed about what must have been seen as a sudden and unprovoked betrayal. "I'm sorry, the Raptor crew acted outside of my authority when they thought you were…one of those things." Starbuck looked down at the Centurion, fighting the urge to draw her sidearm and put a bullet through its head.

"Have them get their eyes checked." It was the one Kara didn't know the name of who was holding the cylon by the leg. He spoke in such a deeply graveled tone that it somehow surpassed Adama's usual tone. "Last time I looked we weren't covered in chrome or had guns built into our arms."

Starbuck brought up to her eyes to the golden visor of Jerome's red-stripped helmet. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm going to make sure they face disciplinary action for what they did." She said sternly.

"Good," was his reply.

On the deck, the Centurion tried to sit itself up, to have the unnamed soldier knock it back down with a yank on its leg.

"Let's keep it moving." Jerome ordered to his teammates and Kara continued to follow.

Moving on to keep the situation from getting any more awkward than it already was, she switched over to a more current topic. "So, what's with the busted toaster?" she said, motioning her head to their 'captive'.

"Captain will want a prisoner for interrogation." Alice answered for Jerome.

She tried to keep herself from laughing. _'Interrogate a Centurion?'_ "Don't think you'll get much out of this thing." Starbuck answered skeptically.

Without looking back Jerome replied. "We'll see."

"I don't think I caught your name?" Starbuck directed at the Centurion-hauler.

"Douglas Zero-Four-Two." He answered with an air of slight hostility. Kara decided not to press further with him after that.

Not long after, they arrived at a maintenance pit occupied by the blackened remnants of their Pelican which had been hastily shoved in to make room for the Vipers now being ferried up and down the hangar deck into pits of their own. Their craft was missing its left-wing nacelle as well as the right nacelle on its tail. Apart from that, the structure had taken surprisingly minimal amounts of damage when compared to if a Raptor had suffered a crash like that. The wide troop bay was facing outward and missing the upper half of its bay door like a boxer that had gotten their upper teeth knocked out. Inside, black cargo netting hung messily down from the overhead across the left line of jump-seats against the hull.

Douglas unceremoniously swung the Centurion around with the one hand he had hold of the leg with, slamming its side into the right row of seats to let it tumble onto the floor, once again on its back. Before it could move, Alice stepped in and planted the heavy machinegun on its chest.

"Hold on to that for me." She told it rhetorically, stepping out of the ruined Pelican a moment later.

"Starbuck!" Kara heard Brendan Costanza, aka: Hot Dog call out to her on her left. Turning to meet him as he jogged up, his helmet off and hair a sweaty mess from the numerous tiring dogfights he'd participated in today. Coming to a stop now he caught his breath, momentarily distracted by the head-turning ability of Galactica's three guests.

"Hot Dog!" Starbuck yelled to bring him back to reality.

His attention turned back to her. "Yeah, sorry. Skulls and Racetrack just landed."

In response she chewed on her inner lip for a second while she thought about how she was going to handle them. "Listen, I'll catch up later, give you the 'Thanks for Not Shooting the Old Man' tour." Starbuck directed at the Thirteenth Tribesmen. "Right now it looks like I got some heads to crack. Stay out of trouble."

"Affirmative," Jerome replied.

Then Starbuck turned back to Costanza. "Hot Dog…go take a shower."

With that, she departed along with Costanza who left shortly thereafter with a long backward glance at the three.

" _Alice,"_ Jerome transmitted on a secure squad channel. _"Go retrieve the package."_

\\\\\\\\\\\O

Further down the hangar deck strode Cally, returned after seeing Jammer off to a medical team on her way to the sickbay. Currently she was busying herself with checking the Raptor maintenance pits and clearing them of obstructions or tools left on the ground that could get in the way of the returning birds. It wasn't nearly as busy in the area of the deck she was. With the largest fuel tanks, the Raptors would be among the last to land, save maybe Raptor 307 which had been out the longest. A lot of deckhands had dropped their tools and gear in a hurry to get out. She still didn't know who managed to make it and who didn't. It was immensely frustrating and worrying at the same time wondering who she'd never see or talk to again but she had a job to do. Aircraft had to be put in their pits as soon as possible for the elevators to be clear so more pilots could land before someone ran out of fuel.

Sighting a toolbelt someone had thrown on the floor, Cally moved into the pit. She took a knee to inspect it for any name as a good number of knuckledraggers liked to keep their tools in arrangements particular to their own liking. This one she found had BROOKS written on the inside strap in thick black marker. Instead of searching high and low for the Specialist, Cally stood and placed it on the adjacent large tool box for him to find later, hopefully. While she did so something else caught Cally's eye, a bit of green, unusual for the hangar deck besides the pilots in their flight-suits. She moved around to the right side of the dull metal toolbox, almost behind between it and the support beam. It looked to be a backpack, though none like she'd ever seen with the bits of dull green metal wrapping around half of its base. Cally knelt back down, undoing the latches to see what was inside.

Flipping over the flap she froze, her eyes wide and her heart suddenly stuck in her throat. What she was looking at unmistakably appeared to be a set of detonators jammed into a huge block of military-grade explosives. Green lights atop the detonators seemed to stare back at her, knowing well what they meant. It was ready to blow at the press of a button.

She wanted to scream, run off and grab the Chief or the nearest Marine and scream at them what she had found but her legs just wouldn't move. A shadow then suddenly loomed over her, finally snapping her out of her silent panic and into a more real panic upon seeing the shadow belonged to one of those Centurion-killers from the _Spirit of Fire_. Her memories flashed back to Kobol when she was under fire by Centurions and scared out of her mind. It took a step toward her with Cally's body finally reacting by throwing herself back and to her left away from the Centurion-like figure, landing on her back she kicked herself a couple meters away. They had planted the bomb that she had found and now one of them was going to kill her. She kept her eyes locked on it as it stood there with eerie stillness staring back at her. Cally expected it to chase after her and crush her skull with those massive armored hands of its, instead it knelt where she had been and bent over the super-sized satchel charge. It tapped at the keypads of foreign script on both of the detonators, their lights blinking off shortly thereafter and then stuffed them into a side pouch. Pretending like she wasn't even there it slung the rucksack onto its back and strode off, leaving a very confused but still terrified deckhand on the floor. One thing was certain, she needed to find Chief Tyrol as soon as she could.

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 _ **COLONIAL ONE**_

 **OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE 12 COLONIES OF KOBOL**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **2 HOURS 53 MINUTES AFTER CONTACT**

"Madam President," Spoke the young Billy Keikeya, President Laura Roslin's Chief of Staff as he parted the curtain into her office.

"Yes Billy?"

"Admiral Adama is on the line, he says its urgent."

Laura nodded back. "Thank you Billy," she replied, picking up the phone before he had left. "Bill, are you okay? How is _Galactica_?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

 _"I'm fine Madam President, Galactica took a beating but she'll recover, she always does. As for the casualties, we're looking at just under forty currently."_ Bill paused. _"Madam President, I have urgent information to report in regard to the mystery ship."_

Laura straightened herself in her chair expecting distressful news. "Go ahead Admiral, I'm listening."

 _"The ship's name is Spirit of Fire, it's a military ship but not one of ours or the Cylons. It's them Madam President, it's the Thirteenth Tribe."_

Bill's words struck like bus to Laura's senses, making her feel lightheaded. She tried to speak, having to swallow the inexplicable lump in her throat. "Wh-what did you say?" she asked through shaking breath.

 _"We found them Laura."_ She heard Bill say again to her disbelief.

"What are they like? Tell me what you know, please." She asked suddenly desperate for a thousand answers to a thousand questions she had yet to think of.

 _"I'm afraid we don't know much, I'll have my after-action report sent off as soon as its finished. I can tell you that the Captain of the ship is a man named James Cutter and they don't speak the same language as us anymore, which could create problems. Right now, Baltar wants to lead the negotiations but I'd prefer it be done through you instead. That's all as of now, I'll update you as soon as I can."_

"Yes, of course Admiral, keep me posted as soon as something happens. Invite whatever delegation they want to send to Colonial One, I want to begin talks immediately."

" _I'll send that along Madam President,"_ Laura hung up the phone with a trembling hand, a surreal feeling enveloping her. This wasn't a dream though, it was real. Earth wasn't a lie, it wasn't legend, it was real. Feeling her eyes begin to moisten, she removed her glasses. "Billy?"

In a moment, the young man appeared, seeing Roslin in quiet tears as she rubbed her eyes and quickly moved to her side. "Madam President's what's wrong?" he said taking a knee beside her. In response, she pulled the former debate team Captain into an embrace.

"We did it Billy, we found them. We're going to Earth."

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR _GALACTICA_ BS-75**

 **HANGAR DECK**

 **3 HOURS AFTER CONTACT**

Just over twenty minutes had passed since Adama had negotiated with Captain Cutter for the unconditional return of his men as well as their destroyed dropship, frankly he just wanted them off his ship as soon as possible. Considering what they were capable of, Bill never wanted them to set foot on his ship again, nor any other if he had a say. The three in question stood only a few feet to his left separate from Saul, Baltar and a large contingent of Marines all around to welcome the retrieval team aboard the Pelican about to descend the port cargo elevator. A ship that size could never hope to fit on any of the elevators meant for normal Colonial aircraft. A klaxon sounded as the platform descended from the airlock above holding the large olive craft aloft, its lengthy tail casting a long shadow over Adama and Tigh. Once the elevator came level to the deck the rear door opened its complex mechanism to reveal a squad of black-armored soldiers of a more _regular_ stature, wearing odd bulbous helmets with obscuring opaque visors. They filed out first, making two even lines of four abreast facing the Admiral and his men as well as the Spartans. Two more figures followed, foremost a young woman wearing brown cargo pants and a half orange, half black sleeveless shirt and her hair tied up in a bun in the back of her head. In her hands appeared to be a thick metal suitcase likely used for the transportation of sensitive materials.

Then came the last passenger. He wore an all-green uniform not unlike Bill's own double-breasted tunic but that was where the similarities ended apart from the insignia on the right shoulder as opposed to the left. The symbol itself, a black bird bearing a red and golden shield upon a light blue background shone brightly over the matte-black impact absorbing semi-ridged material encompassing the man's shoulders, collar and outer biceps. Another distinguishing feature being the double sets of chevrons paired with a single small golden oak leaf, distinguishing some unknown rank. The same bird symbol was also upon the right side of his chest, larger and bearing vague, inverted resemblance to the Colonial Seal.

Instead of more casual footwear, the man wore mainline combat boots with the pantlegs tucked in. Further up was a hefty utilitarian belt complete with leg-holster. Lastly he wore a green cap over his silver-grey hair bearing a crown of silver-grey olive branches upon the brim and the 'bird atop the globe' symbol on the brow.

The man himself was about Bill's age, with paler skin than his own but warmer than Colonel Tigh's pasty complexion. A fuzzy beard colored his jawline a shade of silver-grey stone, short and well-trimmed but unusually dense for such a short cut. He had sharp energetic blue eyes that while not aggressive, did not hesitate to meet the Admiral's own.

The moment he stepped off, the three Spartans performed the crispest and quickest salute Bill had ever seen which slightly startled some of the Marines. He stepped forward with the woman following on his right until halting a few feet from the Admiral and XO, save for the woman who then knelt down to open her briefcase on the deck. From it she pulled a tablet computer and five headsets, handing them off to the man, herself, Baltar, Bill and Saul who took his dubiously and only wore it after a few seconds of close inspection.

Now all looking ridiculous, the young woman keyed something on the touchscreen. "Alright, everyone should be able to understand each other." She 'said' in spite of her lips not at all matching the syllables Bill was hearing through the headset.

The man began with a salute, almost identical to a Colonial one. It wasn't forced or apathetic in the face of tradition, Adama could see it in the man's expression. "Permission to come aboard Admiral?" he asked with a voice Bill had recently heard threatening the destruction of his ship. It was Cutter, much to his surprise, though the stoic old man gave no hint he was. Bill knew what this was, he'd done it with Cain when _Pegasus_ first met with the Fleet. Captain Cutter had come to get a measure of Bill and vis-a-vie, show the Admiral the kind of man he was.

Bill returned the salute. "Permission granted Captain." He returned and the both resumed casual postures.

Cutter then took a moment before continuing to address the Spartans. "At ease Spartans." He ordered with a strong but relaxed tone, the three assuming parade rest with unnerving unity.

"I'd like to introduce my second in command," Bill started. "Colonel Saul Tigh. As well as the Colonial Vice President, Doctor Gaius Baltar."

Cutter made a gesturing motion with his right arm to the young woman. "This is Professor Ellen Anders, she's a civilian scientific consultant with the Office of Naval Intelligence. And you already know the Spartans of Red Team." He said turning back to Bill. "I heard they saved a lot of lives here."

"They were invaluable to Galactica's defense." Bill was resigned to admit. "But I don't want to ever see them on my ship again."

"We should make sure this peace lasts then." Cutter replied, the undertone of his words barely detectable to all but a seasoned man like Bill. "Put our best foot forward to make the best of what there is." He continued.

"I agree," Bill spoke, pausing a moment before he continued. "I've spoken with the President, she would like to invite a delegation from your ship to Colonial One to discuss formal negotiations as soon as possible."

"What?" Baltar interrupted. "Admiral, I volunteered to lead those negotiations."

Bill cast a slightly annoyed but overall dismissive glance over to him. "The President wants to handle this directly, but she has given you the privilege of delivering the Codex of the Twelve Colonies to the Thirteenth Tribe."

The Codex was a PR stunt President Roslin had come up with around eighty days into the Fleet's voyage to keep up moral. Bill never thought it would actually be delivered. This document, the Codex, contained the abridged history of the Twelve Colonies as well as their laws, religion, art, a list of their technical achievements and poetry. It was to be delivered to the Thirteenth Tribe upon the Fleet's arrival to Earth as a way of greeting their formerly fictional long lost brethren. The proper formal copy of the Codex currently resided on Colonial One, bound in pristine leather emblazoned with the Colonial seal in gold salvaged from somewhere in the Fleet but for this meeting they would receive a less extravagant version consisting of three metal rings holding a thick ream of printer paper together.

As for the line about President Roslin giving Baltar the honor of handing it to them, Bill had simply made that up in attempt to satiate the man's ego, not that it wouldn't stop Baltar from complaining anyway. Thankfully he didn't need any coaxing to hand the papers over to miss Anders. "This document contains all that we are, from our greatest triumphs to our humble beginnings when we left Kobol and our tribes bid goodbye to yours."

A strange expression befell the woman's face but said nothing, placing the Codex in her open briefcase and retrieving a document of her own to whom she gave to Baltar in return. Upon it was that stylized image of an eagle atop a globe with the words: UNITED NATIONS SPACE COMMAND, printed boldly upon a banner beneath. Baltar's eyes flashed, like man dying of starvation presented with a feast.

"If that will be all Admiral, I'd like to return to my ship to monitor the repairs but we'll contact you once we're ready to begin the negotiations."

Bill nodded back. "Keep in touch." He said before returning the headset to Professor Anders as did Tigh and Baltar.

"Spartans, climb aboard, we're headed back to the Spirit." The Captain ordered and the Spartans immediately began to move to follow as the group climbed back aboard the Pelican, hauling their gear and their prisoner in tow. The Admiral was content to stand there and watch as the Pelican ascended. As brief as the meeting was he had learned a number of things about Cutter, that he was bold and wasn't afraid of placing himself in danger if it meant ensuring the safety of his crew and he looked completely comfortable in that combat-ready uniform. Judging by his energetic attitude and apt diplomatic tongue, he liked to play it aggressive but not as reckless as Admiral Cain was more predisposed to lean toward. Question was how intelligent was he and just how aggressive could the Captain be?

A quiet hiss marked elevator airlock sealing, giving Bill the peace of mind enough to remove the headset clamped over his ears. "What did you think of them Saul?"

"Hard to say after only five minutes." He said, having Bill offer a grunt in return. "That Captain though, he's a sharp one. Doesn't seem prone to back down. Actually, reminds me a bit of you that way Bill." He admitted. This time Bill gave a grunt with a slightly more humorous inflection, a slight upper curve on his lips breaking his stoic visage.

Then came the quick pattering of boots from behind, gradually slowing from a full run. "Admiral!" Bill heard Chief Tyrol call out.

By the time Admiral Adama casually turned himself about, the Chief had come to a stop. "Admiral," he gasped short of breath. "I've been looking all over for you. Tell-please tell me, one of the soldiers from the _Spirit of Fir_ e, the ones that came over on the first dropship. Did one of them have a backpack on them? Big, did it look full?"

"Yes," Saul answered with a cautionary tone. "Why?"

Chief Tyrol didn't reply immediately as he caught his breath, but the look in his eyes told Bill it wasn't good.

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR _GALACTICA_ BS-75**

 **PILOT READY ROOM**

For the third time, Starbuck paced the first row of seats where Racetrack, Skulls and Reilly sat in various states of trepidation. Reilly looked like a mouse, whereas Skulls had the corner of his lip up in an agitated expression as if someone was holding a plate of his own crap under his nose. Racetrack simply looked annoyed.

"I should have the three of you court-marshaled." Starbuck said plainly. "Subverting the chain of command, disregarding the orders of a superior officer, opening fire on a spacecraft carrying diplomatic envoys."

"Those things look like diplomatic envoys to you?" Skulls spoke out of turn, challenging Starbuck's authority once more. Kara stopped and took a step toward him.

"Well they sure as frak don't look like cylons!" she shouted in his face. "I looked right inside that cockpit before you ever set eyes on any of them! When _McCall,_ was the last time Centurions wore fraking helmets!" she roared.

"I tried to talk him down Captain," Edmondson 'Racetrack' cut in as an attempt to exonerate herself. "I don't get why _I'm_ here."

Starbuck sneered back at her incredulously. "Frak her and her guts," she quoted, making Edmondson's face fall. "Yeah, I listened to your fraking flight recorder dumbass! You deliberately instructed a Viper under _my_ command to prepare to open fire on a diplomatic transport containing people I had previously stated with high probability on an open radio channel of being from the THIRTEENTH FRAKING TRIBE!"

Starbuck looked to each individual with equal measures of raw anger and disbelief. "Do any of you get it? You incompetent frakheads almost started a _war_ with the very same people we were hoping would save us from the cylons!" Kara then stepped back, leaning against the face of the podium she delivered her pre-flight briefings at. "I should strip all three of you of your flight status and have you dishonorably discharged. Fortunately for you, we can't spare the pilots right now. So instead…Lieutenant Edmondson, I'm revoking your flight status for two months, during which you will be assigned to janitorial detail. All passes are revoked and all privileges canceled for six months" Racetrack let out a groaning sigh. "Hey, you want to make it eight!?" Starbuck snapped.

Then she turned her attention to the rookie dumbass. "Reilly, the same for you, six months no leave and the only reason I'm letting you keep your flight status is because we lost nine pilots out there." For once the kid smartly didn't say a word.

Lastly Starbuck sighted McCall seated in the middle, looking more pissed off than ever and giving Kara more satisfaction in handing out her judgement. "As for you, four months in the brig, solitary confinement." Starbuck saw the flash of fear in his eyes. "But who knows," she added. "Maybe you'll be allowed some guests to visit. Those Spartans put a lot of Marines up in the sickbay and I'm going to make sure they and all their friends know just who pissed those three off and nearly lost us Earth."

 **APRIL 16 2534, 1917 HOURS**

 **UNSC _SPIRIT OF FIRE_ CFV-88**

 **BRIDGE**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

" _Galactica_ , this is _Spirit of Fire_ Actual, we are going to maintain a distance of ten kilometers from the Fleet at this time. Be advised, we will also be attempting restart of our main thrusters in approximately fifteen minutes." Cutter communicated from beside the holotable, observing the highly accurate representation of the Colonial Fleet, not one vessel matching any recognizable model in the Spirit's databanks. It had been over an hour since the Captain returned aboard his ship from the Galactica and his interesting conversation with Admiral Adama. Currently, Petty Officer Green was adjusting the Spirit's heading to run parallel with the Colonial Fleet in high orbit around the class-1 gas giant positioned inside the sizable asteroid belt within the system.

 _"Galactica copies, Spirit of Fire Actual. You may proceed with engine restart when ready."_ Came the reply from a younger sounding man than the gravel-throated Admiral.

"Ha," Serina laughed as she appeared on her holotank. "It's cute how they think they're in charge. Why I could highjack their COM frequencies and blare Hell's Bells over the radios of every ship if I wanted to."

Cutter gave an amused smile back. "Good to know Serina. Anything else, or did you just decide to pop in for that little joke?"

"Still not a hint of a match against the Spirit's database of ship designs for the Colonial Fleet. I don't think they're from our part of town, sir."

"So, they're not Insurrectionists from some undocumented colony." Cutter stated flatly.

"You should go talk with Anders sir, we've finished translating the document they gave us. Well that's not true, I finished translating it over forty minutes ago, but decided to go ahead and let the good Professor work out the discoveries on her own." Serina said. She may be a smart-aleck at times but there was no denying she wasn't considerate when it came to the wellbeing of the crew, whether that be physical, psychological or personal.

"And?"

"I shouldn't spoil it sir, it would crush Anders' dear little ego. And if she doesn't lecture someone soon I'm worried she might wear a hole through the observation deck with all her pacing about."

"I'll head down then, Lieutenant Larson, you have the Bridge."

\\\\\\\\\\\O

A short elevator ride brought Cutter down to Anders' improvised lab she had commandeered from the Captain's observation deck. It was large, spanning ten meters across by just a couple over twenty long. All surfaces with the exception of the ceiling and the wall partitioning the room's entrance were made of meter-thick titanium oxynitride glass, to stunning effect. From the floor to the two levels of large windows on three sides, there was a view of the entire system around, most prominently the orange-red gas giant that painted the side profiles of the Colonial Fleet. It was the last place any crew member with acrophobia wanted to be and even the Captain found it unsettling with no planet under his feet to admire but Anders seemed unfazed. Across the floor lay an assembly of scientific equipment, power supplies and the chaotic trails of wires networking them all. Cutter was glad to see the samples of technology from the ancient alien ruins of Harvest and the artificial planet were still within the confines of the seven specimen tanks placed randomly about.

"Captain," she greeted as she looked up from her tablet.

The Captain strode in like he owned the place, because technically he did, no matter what Anders might seem to think at times. "What have you got for me Professor? Serina says she's worried you might wear a hole in the floor."

Anders took a long breath and sighed coupled with a shake of her head. "Honestly Captain, I'm not sure where to begin. I started going through the history presented but it's impossible to say where that ends and their theology begins. According to them all humans including _us_ by their account evolved on a planet called Kobol thousands of years ago. Roughly two-thousand years ago, there was a war or some disaster that forced twelve of the thirteen tribes to leave and find other worlds to colonize which they surprisingly did, but that's not relevant right now. The Thirteenth Tribe however, left another two-thousand years prior to that, supposedly finding a planet they called _Earth_. That is apparently who they think we are."

A perplexed expression grew on the Captain's face. "That timeline doesn't add up Professor, ancient human civilization on Earth was well established by that point and I believe fossil evidence points to humans evolving on Earth, and not on that other planet." He pointed out.

"Then there's the Greek connection, which makes it even more confusing." A puzzled Anders admitted, taking a seat at her desk.

"Work on that later," Cutter half suggested, half ordered. "What about those ships that attacked us?"

"Now that, I have answers for." The woman answered. A keyboard command brought a file up on the large display screen hanging from a free moving arm suspended from the ceiling. Upon it was a chrome-plated humanoid robot model far bulkier than any of the boarders that had attacked the Spirit. "They're called Cylons. The Colonials created them as a robotic worker force over fifty years ago, but turns out they made the cylons a bit _too_ smart. They rebelled, violently, _very_ violently." Anders stated. "After a twelve-year war, an armistice was signed and the cylons left, only to come back forty years later and nearly wipe them all out with a massive coordinated cyberattack and simultaneous nuclear strikes culminating in the deaths of over fifty-billion people."

"Genocide…" Cutter said shocked. "Makes the casualties occurred in the Insurrection look like a footnote in comparison." He said with a troubled tone.

Anders down from the screen to the Captain. "That fleet, that's all that's left of them. Less than fifty-thousand souls out of an entire civilization. Captain Cutter, whether or not we are this Thirteenth Tribe, we have to get these people back to UNSC space. Not just for a humanitarian cause but to answer the slew of questions their existence presents for Humanity at large. The technology alone of those super-accurate FTL drives could give us an unparalleled advantage over the Covenant in the war and the UNSC will want every drive possible for reverse engineering. Why we could theoretically-"

Cutter held up his hand in a pausing gesture. "That's enough Professor, I think I got the picture. I'll hail _Galactica_ and inform them we'll depart for their Presidential ship in an hour to begin the negotiations. You and Serina have until then to create a briefing packet containing any other prevalent information I need to know."

Cutter about-faced and began to leave, behind him Anders stood up from her desk. "Captain, I'd like to accompany you." She requested.

"I plan on it, Professor." Cutter answered back before stepping out the door.

 **APRIL 16 2534, 2025 HOURS**

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 _ **COLONIAL ONE**_

 **OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE 12 COLONIES OF KOBOL**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

Colonial One was an unusual reality compared to what Captain Cutter had expected as he was being led by a surprisingly young man who introduced himself as the President's Chief of Staff. The poor kid didn't even look twenty but Cutter was learning that adaptation was the name of the game in the Colonial Fleet with the President herself being the former Secretary of Education. Desperate times called for desperate measures it seemed. But strangely not desperate enough to call for Admiral Adama to call for martial law which puzzled him given the Colonials' circumstances. Adama certainly didn't seem like a weak man.

Cutter began ascending the spiral staircase with Anders behind and Mr. Keikeya in front, escorted by an armed man in a black suit serving under the President's security service at the head of the line and to the rear Corporal Locklear, an ODST handpicked by Major Markov for this mission for his aptitude with combat in close quarters.

They now entered the topmost compartment on the starliner, formerly the first-class seating. A short aisle of doubled-up seats lead to a room partitioned off by a curtain in a vertically stretched hexagonal-framed door.

The young Mr. Keikeya stopped just before it and turned about to face the Captain. He said something with an awkward tone of voice that Corporal Locklear then translated.

"He said you can't bring your sidearm in Captain. And he wants me to wait out here. Should I politely tell him where to shove it sir?"

"That's a negative Corporal. This is their ship, I'll show them the courtesy." Cutter spoke as he drew his sidearm and handed it to the ODST.

"If you're sure sir, I'll be right out here if you need me." Locklear ensured.

"I trust you will, son." He said before turning to Anders. "Okay Professor let's go, and remember what I said on the Pelican."

Ushered on by the Chief of Staff who held the curtain open for the Captain and Anders, the two entered President Laura Roslin's office.

It was a fairly spacious compartment, one could walk comfortably enough in there around the austere desk centered toward the back of the office. In the far-left corner sat a pair of dwarfish filing cabinets with a desk lamp and three sets of lawbooks atop them. To the outsides of the adjacent doorway by which they were placed stood a pair of bronze poles a few centimeters shorter than the ceiling, each holding what bust have been the Colonial flag. Around were a number of upholstered leather armchairs like the one Vice President Baltar sat in against the left wall, there like an afterthought when compared to Admiral Adama seated to the left at the left foremost chair nearest the desk. He who wore a pensive expression almost unseen until Cutter walked up to bare his eyes on perhaps the one thing that met his expectations today.

From the upholstered leather office chair behind the desk, a beautiful middle-aged woman stood up who couldn't have fit the textbook image of a schoolteacher more than she already was. Her brown, almost auburn hair flowed over the shoulders of her simple black work dress and the feminine black-framed glasses highlighted her warm yet intelligent eyes.

She approached with an excited spring in her step, greeting him in her language, caught up in the moment and forgetting he couldn't understand a word she said. Baltar then stood up as well as an unthought reaction mimicking Roslin's more politically savvy greeting evidenced by his awkward forced smile. Admiral Adama though, stayed seated.

Anders stepped in, handing the Captain and the two politicians the headsets from her briefcase opened upon a chair on her right.

"Admiral?" she said in English, attempting to get his attention to take a headset for himself. After a second call, she placed her hand on his shoulder which roused him from his thoughts.

"Thank you," he said passively.

It took a second for President Roslin to adjust her hair around the earpieces before she attempted a greeting once more.

"Captain Cutter, it's a pleasure to meet you." she said with a smile and her hand presented.

In response Cutter shook it lightly with a bit of a smile befitting a military man. "President Roslin,"

"And you must be miss Anders," she addressed Cutter's civilian companion.

"Uh, yes ma'am that's correct." Anders was almost as awkward as Baltar. Perhaps it was a shared trait amongst scientists.

"Go ahead, please be seated, we have much to discuss." A gesturing sweep of President Roslin's hand welcomed them to the set of chairs to the right of the room. Cutter took and Anders took the chairs opposite the ones of Adama and Baltar with the Captain taking the aisle seat. Cutter cast a glance to Adama and their eyes met for a moment, spotting a hidden glimmer of agitation in the Admiral's eyes directed at James. As Roslin began to speak, their attention was put on her as she took her seat at her desk.

"To begin, Captain, I would like to thank you for assisting _Galactica_ in the defeat of the cylon basestars. That really was a remarkable thing you and the Admiral accomplished out there. How is your ship, I heard the engines were damaged?"

Cutter cleared his throat. "We have our main sublight power back up. Two of our thrusters were badly damaged and I'm waiting for my Chief Engineer to get back to me if they can be fully repaired."

Roslin nodded. "Well, if the _Spirit of Fire_ is in any need of fuel, our tanker ship has plenty of tylium to spare her." This brought on a confused look from the Captain.

Anders then interjected. "I'm sorry, did I hear you right? Did you just say you used tylium to fuel your starships?"

Now it was Roslin's turn to be confused. "Um yes, why is something wrong Professor?" she asked with honest curiosity.

"The Spirit operates on fusion drives, madam President," Cutter answered. "She won't need refueling for another fifty-six years. And if you'll pardon me saying, I've never heard of anyone crazy enough to run their ships off the stuff you're using." Truthfully, it was like they were fueling their cars with gunpowder the way Cutter saw it. "But if you are offering, the Spirit's arsenal of ship-to-ship missiles and countermeasures are running significantly low."

Roslin was a bit slow to react upon hearing of that technological revelation. "That's excellent to hear Captain, I'm sure we can work out that little detail at the conclusion of these talks, I just have a few questions I wanted to direct your way."

"Go ahead," Cutter answered with an offering gesture.

"Yes, I've read the file you gave to my Vice President. I saw no mention of Kobol in it or really anything about the Gods."

Cutter took in a short breath after a second of internal deliberation. "Less than an hour ago, I wasn't aware there was a planet _called_ Kobol. As for your gods, to my knowledge no one has practiced widespread worship of them for millennia."

Roslin's response was silence. Cutter had clearly dropped two very big bombs on the woman.

"You forgot about us?" Vice President Baltar spoke up. "What about the ships you left Kobol in, where did those all go, they certainly couldn't have just disappeared?"

"Four-thousand years is a very long time mister Vice President." Anders answered. "And the circumstances as to why our ancestors left Kobol is completely undefined in your Sacred Scrolls. There could have been a civil war, some reason why they'd want to forget about the past. As for the ships, conceivably they could have been autopiloted into the sun or any of the gas giants in Earth's solar system." It wasn't the truth, but it also wasn't a lie, just as she and the Captain had discussed on the Pelican ride over. Right now _Spirit of Fire_ couldn't afford to alienate the Colonials by presenting a mountain of evidence contradicting a large portion of their history and religion which could possibly reignite tensions. For now, Cutter would string them along for the greater good of everyone until they got back to the UNSC. Let the higher-ups and the scientific community handle that mess of worms.

"Well that doesn't matter now," President Roslin rejoined the conversation with her lovely smile. "We're all of us, all thirteen tribes reunited at long last and that's all that matters." She said looking to all four faces in the room. Roslin then looked to a paper on her desk, looking back up to Cutter after reading something. "Captain, if I may ask, how exactly did _Spirit of Fire_ come to appear so far outside UNSC controlled space, that matter is unclear to me."

"We were en route back to the colony of Reach from our deployment with Third Fleet to resupply when our slipspace drive dangerously malfunctioned and we were forced to jettison it before it destroyed the ship. The jump had us nearly run headfirst into an asteroid and did quite a number to our portside." That however _was_ a lie, one Cutter made out of necessity. The absolute last thing these people should learn was that their only hope for survival was at war with a technologically superior alien civilization, a greater threat than the cylons might ever be. Such a shocking revelation could very well scatter these people to the wind, taking with them their unique FTL drives that could give the UNSC the strategic advantage it needed to press back against the Covenant. "That was over three years ago. With no slipspace drive, most of the crew entered cryogenic storage for the long journey back. We certainly never expected to encounter your Fleet."

"So you do know the way back to Earth?" Roslin asked with metaphorical held breath.

"We have a rough idea. No UNSC ship has ever been as far out as this before, we're definitely off the beaten path. Spirit will hit UNSC space eventually though, that's a guarantee."

Losing the smile, President Roslin then addressed the matter foremost on her mind. "Captain Cutter you are aware of the circumstances the Fleet faces?"

"I am." He answered solidly.

"Then as President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol and representative her peoples, I would like to formally request asylum within United Earth space."

Cutter stood to present himself formally. "As a Captain of the United Nations Space Command Navy under the United Earth Government, I will accept your request." Roslin couldn't have been more elated if she were standing on Earth itself right now. "However," Cutter continued. " _Spirit of Fire_ will need a replacement drive if we are to accompany you and I cannot in good faith abandon my ship. My second condition is that all Colonial FTL drives and military vessels are to be handed over to the UNSC for scientific research upon arrival."

Roslin took her eyes off Cutter as she deliberated, a second later she met them again with her answer. "I believe that's something I can agree to." She acquiesced. "Admiral Adama?"

The sturdily built Admiral stood himself to meet Captain Cutter, for the first time yet since the discussions began Admiral Adama spoke. "Before that, Captain, I wanted to ask you," he began departing from the original topic, his words were unhurried but held a serious tone. "When your men departed for the _Galactica_ , did you order them to take the explosives they brought aboard my ship?"

You could have heard a pin drop. Roslin sat in well masked horror at Bill's words but could not find any herself.

Cutter for his part, looked Bill right in the eyes, undeterred by his stoic glare. "No." he answered. "But I was aware."

"You sent special forces under the cover of a diplomatic mission." Bill then accused.

Cutter's reply was instant. "I sent men that I knew couldn't be taken as hostages and used as bargaining chips. You threatened to open fire and seize my ship unprovoked. I could have ordered them to detonate those explosives, disable the Galactica's flight pod and had my pilots shoot yours down while Red Team seized the Bridge to force a solution." The Captain explained with a deadpan tone.

"But you didn't." Adama intensely said back with equal measure of emotionlessness. "Why?"

"You risked the safety of your ship to save mine, a gesture like that can't be swept aside. That's why I'm here and not issuing demands from the Spirit with a gun to your head."

Bill gave a very low grunt in return. "Your soldiers already did that in my CIC."

"And it wouldn't have happened if your aviators were better disciplined." Cutter countered.

"Gentlemen please," A recomposed Roslin interrupted, standing herself. "Yes, the both of you threatened to blow each other up, everyone was confused but we're past that now." The President negotiated. "Admiral Adama are you willing to accept Captain Cutter's terms?"

Adama's posture softened as he turned his torso slightly to face President Roslin. "I will need some time to deliberate the Captain's terms. In the meantime, _Pegasus_ has detected significant deposits of titanium in this system's asteroid belt, more than enough to make two full squadrons of Vipers.

"And with the cylons' main force in the area destroyed, we would have the time for the _Majahual_ to engage in a mining operation." Roslin finished, though slightly irritated.

"Spirit has some mining capability of her own and we need to make repairs to all the damages she's sustained." Cutter added in. "We can still continue these talks without the galaxy having to stand still for us. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day."

It was a reasoning that Roslin could agree to despite not getting the reference. "Okay, we have the luxury, we'll take things slow. I'd like for us to meet back here and resume talks in around twenty hours, I'll have more proposals and points I would like to talk on by then. Captain, when you're prepared, I'd like to send over Galactica's engineering expert to analyze what it would take to make _Spirit of Fire_ jump-capable and then oversee the installation if that's fine with you."

Cutter nodded. "We'll need to make some preparations, then I'll _'wireless'_ you when we're ready. Feel free to keep the headsets, we'll be coming back here anyway."

Roslin stepped out from behind her desk to stand next to Captain Cutter to shake hands again. "Captain, it's been a pleasure, I look forward to our next meeting. She said diplomatically but there was an honest charm to her voice anyone could have found likable.

"I'll see you in twenty hours madam President." He bid farewell before once again facing Bill and offering a courteous salute which Admiral Adama returned in equal respect.

"Admiral,"

"Captain,"

With that, Captain Cutter and Professor Anders departed for their dropship to head back to _Spirit of Fire_.

A good forty seconds of silence followed after their departure, a measure on Roslin's part to make sure they wouldn't hear her next words. "What the hell was that all about Bill?" Laura said, losing the façade of politeness.

The Admiral was slow to face her as he turned about. "I needed to know the kind of man he was, how far he'd go." He explained at his normal deliberate pace.

"Well, I hope you got your answer because you almost sabotaged this whole thing." She bit back.

"Cutter needs our spare FTL drives if he wants to get his ship home before the next century." Bill said, pacing slightly to the right of the room. "He'll help us, he was honest about that. But I get the impression that if he thinks that his crew is in any kind of immediate danger, he won't hesitate to take action, maybe even leave us behind if he feels he must. Call it a gut feeling."

Roslin's lips narrowed as she judged the weight of Adama's words. "I'll take that into consideration going forward Admiral. That will be all for today."

"Madam President," Bill bid farewell.

 **APRIL 16 2534, 2055 HOURS**

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **PELICAN DELTA 091**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

Now once again aboard the Pelican and returning to the Spirit from the interesting start to these negotiations, Cutter and Anders sat in the troop bay at the end nearest the cockpit and across from one another. There wasn't much to say. For the most part, things had gone mostly as expected and they managed to keep their cover story. The rest of the crew would need to be briefed as well to make sure the Colonials remained unaware to certain truths any one of them could let slip depending on how long Spirit would journey with the Fleet until they reached the UNSC. There was one major problem however, one that Anders then brought up.

"So, when are we going to tell them we don't know where Earth is either?"

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **So, Cutter is keeping secrets, Roslin is gitty, Baltar is Baltar and Adama is still wary about things he doesn't have control over. Next chapter I'll be introducing the Spirit's Chief Engineer and that'll be fun. Don't expect massive battles all the time, they'll happen from time to time with lots of drama in between just like in the show and I definitely want to keep that feel. As for the technical subjects…**

 **1\. Since tylium is a thing in BSG, then it is a thing** _ **everywhere**_ **and the UNSC must know about its existence. With refined tylium being an extraordinary high-explosive, I'm creating the connection that the UNSC uses it to achieve high-megaton yields in non-nuclear munitions like Archer Missiles and that Shortsword anti-ship missile I introduced in the previous chapter, actually fixing an existing technological plot-hole in the Halo canon.**

 **2\. Titanium oxynitride is what I'm calling the material used for starship windows. It is based on aluminum oxynitride, an actual existing material used commercially.**

 **3\. I based Spirit of Fire's Tarantula Repair Drones on the Gyges Construction Drones from Sins of the Prophets, an excellent Halo mod for the space RTS Sins of a Solar Empire: Rebellion. Seriously, check it out. You can finally play with all the UNSC's ships and more. Spirit of Fire would need such remotely operated vehicles like them in order to effectively operate as a fleet support and repair ship, which is one of her main duties.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire**

(A Battlestar Galactica-Halo Wars crossover)

Episode 2

Heritage: Part 2

 _With_

 _Gideon Emery as Captain James Cutter_

 _Faye Kingslee as Ellen Anders_

 _Courtenay Taylor as Serina_

 _Willem Dafoe as Major Vladimir Markov_

 _Rob Mayes as Jerome-092_

 _Christopher Eccleston as Lieutenant Colonel Christian McCullen_

 _Zachary Quinto as Petty Officer Jonathan Green_

 _Chiwetel Ejiofor as Lieutenant Isaac Larson_

 _Michael Peña as Petty Officer Blake_

 _Jay Baruchel as Lieutenant Travis_

 _ **And Introducing Sam Elliott as Chief Engineer Andrew Prescott**_

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: On purely speculative science-fiction technology…** " _Get your facts first and then you can distort them as much as you please." -Mark Twain_

 **APRIL 16 2534, 2220 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 _ **COLONIAL ONE**_

 **OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE 12 COLONIES OF KOBOL**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **49,564 SURVIVORS**

In the busting belly of Colonial One, a press conference had been called for by President Roslin, much to the eager anticipation of the reporters who had been as in the dark as the rest of the Colonial Fleet as to what exactly had transpired recently. Now the assembled journalists sat down in the economy seating section-turned conference room fidgeting like hungry cats while they waited for the President to make her appearance. The wait however, did not last too much longer as the former Education Secretary and her Chief of Staff appeared with two members of the President's security team escorting them from out behind the curtain. Without a word said, she approached the podium emblazoned with the Colonial Seal while the reporters started their recording devices to review the speech afterword for anything they may have missed. It was an act done out of habit rather than necessity seeing how it had been announced beforehand that President Roslin's address would be broadcast live for everyone in the Fleet to hear.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, thank you all for coming on this most auspicious day, and to the people of the Twelve Colonies currently listening throughout the Fleet. I am here today to speak on a matter of great importance regarding the events that have transpired within the last seven hours." She began. "When our fleet came to this solar system on our scheduled jump, every ship picked up a wideband transmission of unknown language and origin. Shortly after, Admiral Adama elected to take the _Galactica_ to investigate the source of this transmission which I can now report to you, belonged to a ship that is called the _Spirit of Fire_. And it is now with certainty I can say that the _Spirit of Fire_ is from and is currently crewed by military personnel belonging to the Thirteenth Tribe."

That shocking announcement brought on a wave of sudden blurted out questions from the press from reasonable queries to the wildly speculative. Billy Keikeya then stepped in to interject. "Please reserve all questions until after the conference." He spoke into the microphone mounted on the podium. The questions died out a couple seconds later, allowing President Roslin to continue.

During early communications between the vessels, an ambush was initiated by the cylons as five basestars then jumped in the vicinity of the ships and I am happy to say that all five basestars and their Raiders were destroyed in a joint action by the _Galactica_ and _Spirit of Fire_ , themselves suffering minimal casualties during the battle."

"I have since then met with the Spirit of Fire's commander, whose name is James Cutter and he has agreed to escort us to Thirteenth Tribe controlled space where we will be granted asylum from the cylons once his ship is FTL capable once more. Now this does not mean we are close to Earth, the _Spirit of Fire_ jumped out here purely by accident over three years ago due to an FTL drive malfunction and they have since been without one on their way back to their territories which could still take considerable time to reach after she has been refitted with the spare FTL drives acquired by the Battlestar _Pegasus_. This is not a time for us to get cocky and start the festivities just yet." Roslin stated with a joking edge to her tone. "The _Pegasus_ has detected large amounts of various metals in this system's asteroid belt and with cylon forces in the area destroyed, we're going to take our time and gather what materials we can for the long road ahead while the _Galactica_ and _Spirit of Fire_ undergo repairs suffered during the battle with the cylons. I will continue meeting with Captain Cutter in the coming days to discuss further matters and the Spirit of Fire's future role in the Fleet. Now, questions?"

 **APRIL 17 2534, 0405 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **199 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **RAPTOR 718 EN ROUTE TO SPIRIT OF FIRE**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

" _Galactica_ , this is Raptor Seven-One-Eight, we are clear of the flight pod and outbound for _Spirit of Fire_." The Raptor's pilot, Lieutenant Jay Finnegan communicated to the battlestar.

 _"Copy that Raptor Seven-One-Eight, Galactica confirms. Spirit of Fire has been informed of your departure."_ Dualla's voice returned. _"Be advised, Spirit of Fire has informed us she has commenced mining operations but they say the air traffic will be clear for your arrival."_

"Copy _Galactica_ , Raptor Seven-One-Eight out. So, Chief, ready to see her?" Finnegan called back to the rear compartment where Chief Tyrol was seated against the back wall.

"What does she look like, I haven't seen any of the pictures yet?"

Back in the cabin, Finnegan's copilot, Jesse Esrin began making what looked like pre-jump checks. Had the Spirit already traveled off that far? "She's long, got over seven-hundred meters on _Pegasus_ but looks like a damn sports car compared to her."

"Huh," Galen acknowledged. So, it was pretty on top of everything else, it wouldn't matter a damn thing if he couldn't make her jump capable in forty days, his current estimate given by Admiral Adama as the timeframe for the mining op. "Hey are we jumping there? I didn't know she was already that far out."

Finnegan peaked around his seat to address Galen more directly. "Oh yeah, that thing can haul major ass. Covered thirty-K in just a few seconds back when those basestars jumped in. She's clear on the other side of the system next to the largest titanium deposit on the belt. Don't think the Old Man wasn't too pleased about that."

A beep on the main console signified the end to their conversation as Esrin cut in. "Alright, jump coordinates set, next stop Thirteenth Tribe central." She said with an upbeat tone that gave Tyrol the impression she might have been grinning. _'Gods Boomer would have loved this before…'_ Galen thought, his mood turning dower at her memory.

The two pilots, oblivious to Galen's internal distress, continued their duties as Esrin began the countdown. "Jump in three…two…one!"

A bright flash of light enveloped the canopy, sweeping away the image of the Fleet, replacing it with a very large asteroid three-ish kilometers out, which then promptly exploded.

"HOLY FRAK!" Esrin cursed as Finnegan pulled up on reflex. Galen might have been a knuckledragger by trade but he knew a weapon impact when he saw one, even on a mountain sized hunk of rock. The circular spray pattern of the material flying off was too uniform to be a random impact by another asteroid. To their front, large cracks in the asteroid's surface grew ever larger as a fair fraction of it was splitting off of its parent rock as result of the violent forces inflicted upon it.

Back in the flight cabin, Finnegan was fighting with the controls to get the Raptor turned around. "C'mon you fraking…" The DRADIS alarmed with hundreds of contacts. Debris flying right at them at hundreds of kilometers per hour. "Hold on! Esrin, we can't outrun all that, we're doing this the hard way!"

"Shit, copy, I got the DRADIS!" she responded with barely controlled distress. Galen felt the Raptor stabilize and then shoot forward as he held himself as tightly to his seat as he could.

"Contact incoming, two-o'clock, six seconds!" Esrin alerted to her partner who responded by pushing the Raptor's nose down to avoid the collision, narrowly avoiding it. "Two more, carom zero-four-four and zero-one-one!"

"Got it!" Finnegan confirmed as he banked the Raptor down and then sharply to the right to avoid getting clipped in the tail. The pilot's head was on a swivel, trying to figure out just what the hell they had ended up in, did they botch the jump? These questions however were quickly put on hold when he sighted multiple smaller impacts on the broken off portion of the asteroid. "Frak, more impacts! Gods what in hades is going on?" the bewildered Raptor pilot begged.

"It's the Spirit!" Chief Tyrol yelled up over the din of the DRADIS alarm. "They're cracking the asteroid!"

Finnegan edged his helmet back slightly, being careful to keep his eyes forward. "What? That's been illegal for a hundred years!" he yelled back.

"Well, I don't think they've fraking heard." Esrin piped in. "We got more debris coming in!"

"Frak, Chief get on the wireless! I don't think the Spirit knows we're here with all this debris." Finnegan yelled back before pulling at the controls to dodge another incoming asteroid.

With a quick breath, Galen unstrapped himself from his seat to have himself instantly thrown to the deck as the Raptor bucked up, nearly smashing Galen's nose against the deck. Instead he could feel a sharp sting on his right cheek, skinned from the floor plating's rough texturing.

Picking himself up, he crawled over to the console, activating the COM systems and cranking the transmitter to full power. " _Spirit of Fire_ , _Spirit of Fire_ , this is Raptor Seven-One-Eight, hold your fire, repeat: hold your fire. We are in the area. Requesting immediate-" Galen was cut off as the Raptor rolled, throwing him backward to the floor.

"Watch it, watch it!" Esrin cried out from the left as the Chief tried to rise again.

"Frak, there's too many!" Galen was floored again when he felt an asteroid impact them on the tail. It must have only clipped them, otherwise he'd be in vacuum right then, he reasoned. "Right engine is gone!" Finnegan called out. "I'm getting sporadic response from the left!"

" _Raptor Seven-One-Eight, this is Spirit of Fire, we read you. Help is on the way, hold tight."_ Galen barely heard a female voice over Finnegan and Esrin.

The next few minutes were a blur to Galen as he was tossed around by the maneuver induced g-forces of the Raptor's evasive flying, tumbling around on the floor like a can of beans in a truck bed. It seemed to never end until Galen heard the telltale alarm from the DRADIS alerting of incoming missile fire. And indeed, four missiles were streaking in, launched from a pair of Longswords escorting an SAR Pelican in. The missiles struck upon the incoming asteroid debris, destroying the smaller rocks and diverting the path of one equal in size to an Elephant Recovery Vehicle.

The turbulence temporarily over, Galen was finally able to get back on his knees, bracing against the wall behind Finnegan's seat.

 _"Raptor Seven-One-Eight this is Pelican Search and Rescue Bravo-Two-One-Five do you copy? Over."_

"Raptor Seven-One-Eight copies," Finnegan replied. "Our engines have taken damage requesting immediate assistance. Over."

" _Rodger that, Raptor Seven-One-Eight, we are inbound to assist, kill your engines and standby for pickup. Over."_

"Wilco, Pelican Bravo-Two-One-Five. Powering down engines now, we will maintain our course." A relieved Finnegan said. With the Longswords in the area to intercept any potential threats, the crew and passenger of the Raptor could breathe a sigh of relief.

"Frak, what the frak was that?" Esrin swore her terror now replaced with anger and confusion. " _Galactica_ fraking hailed them, they knew we were coming! What the hell happened?"

"I don't know." Finnegan replied with a frustrated shake of the head while behind him, the Chief put some thought to it.

"The jump," he finally said. "They didn't know we were jumping to their position."

Esrin turned around as much as she could in her seat. "That ship was thousands of kilometers away, of course we were going to jump there, that's standard operating procedure for distances over ten-thousand kilometers." She stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah well, looks like we didn't tell them that either." Galen said with a tight-lipped expression.

Finnegan fell back in his seat exhausted. "Frak." He cursed, seeing the Chief's logic clearly.

Not long after, the Pelican arrived, magnetically latching the Raptor under its long tail, the purpose of that particular oddity now revealed. The ride then after that harrowing arrival went quietly. From the limiting position behind the Pelican, Galen, Esrin and Finnegan observed dozens more Pelicans, Longswords and other craft including at least two massive boxy ships pass by. DRADIS cited almost one-hundred-and-ten contacts total with more on their way into the debris field to retrieve stray chunks of ore to bring back to the Spirit for processing. Asteroid cracking was a messy business but it looked like the Spirit was well equipped to deal with that problem.

As the Pelican banked right around the Spirit, Galen got his first good look at her and damn she was a sight. Sleeker and longer than any Colonial warship he'd ever seen. The fighter hangars were built high into the main body protecting them well from hostile fire and negating the need for excessive armoring like the flight pods on a battlestar. And with what looked like a dozen other launch bays to deploy dropships from like they all were now, it was clear to Galen that _Spirit of Fire_ would be an absolute terror to anyone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end when it came to planetary assaults. Her Marine compliment must have been sizable, a battalion or more, the Chief estimated. The Pelican came around to the Spirit's portside where he got a good look at the damage on the futuristic wing while their glorified Thirteenth Tribe tow truck made its final approach on the bay they were to land in near the bottom of the ship. It definitely looked like damage from a large impact and not anything artillery fire could have done; the Admiral might have just been paranoid for once when he asked Galen to access it for him.

Entering the bay, the Pelican pilot hailed them on the wireless. _"Raptor Seven-One-Eight, do you read? Over."_

Finnegan engaged the transmitter on his console. "Raptor Seven-One-Eight copies Pelican Bravo Two-One-Five, send traffic, over."

" _We will be touching down on launch pad five momentarily to set your bird down. From there, we will disengage magnetic lock and move to land launch pad four. Do not attempt disembark until you are clear of the airlock, a Marine medical team will be on standby. Do you copy that? Over."_

"We copy loud and clear Bravo Two-One-Five, see you inside. Over and out."

The Pelican came in gently over the yellow outlined pad. In an instant, the mechanic and two pilots felt the Pelican's electromagnets disengage when they unceremoniously dropped to the deck. While it was only at the most ten centimeters, being inside the multi-ton spacecraft when it fell still made for a rough landing. The Pelican then moved off to its own pad adjacent to them, giving the Chief a good look around. The bay was a good size, with two rows of six launch pads, Galen estimated the dimensions to be around one-hundred-fifty meters wide by another hundred in length and twenty meters from the floor to the ceiling. Admittingly, Galen had wondered if the Thirteenth Tribe had some kind of invisible energy shield acting as a bay door but upon seeing a few figures in spacesuits wandering about that thought was put to rest at almost the same moment the Raptor began to rise up toward a door in the ceiling he hadn't noticed before, equal in size to the launch pad the Raptor sat on. Looked like the Spirit's launch bays operated in the same method as Galactica's flight pods did, though reversed in the direction of their elevators. It didn't take long to pass up into the aircraft hangar.

A mechanical _thunk_ signaled the halt of the aircraft elevator, revealing an aircraft hangar that wasn't all that dissimilar to Galactica's, though she did not have racks for aircraft that stretched up potentially seven or eight rows high. Ahead a squad of olive armored Marines came jogging up, four of them sporting dark red crosses on their left pauldrons clustered around two gurneys.

Several minutes passed as the medics looked the three over for injury, with Galen in particular who was the only passenger with a visible wound. Currently he was sat down on the Raptor's wing while one medic examined his eyes with a flashlight for concussion while another used a miraculous machine the size of a portable vacuum to heal the scrape on his cheek with a strange burst of odd colored light. It burned and stung like hell, but it worked.

The Medic shined the damn light in his eyes for longer than a minute, making the mechanic worry he'd be seeing spots for the next few hours. When the Marine finally turned it off, Galen found an elderly gentleman in a dark green uniform staring down at him with a friendly smile cocked up on the left side of his mouth under the bristly silver mustache that looked like considerably past regulation length. He held out a beaten looking headset out to him which Galen promptly dawned.

"Rough ride?" he asked in a drawling accent before offering his hand to Galen.

"I've had better," Galen replied, taking the hand and pulling himself up, bringing the attention of the Marine Medic once more who wanted to check his pupillary response just one more time. The Deck Chief held out his hand in a stopping gesture. "Please, if you shine that thing in my eye one more time, I think I'll go blind." he said, not caring if the Marine understood him or not.

"He'll be fine corpsman, I got him from here." The older man said to wave the Marine off. Distractions out of the way, he offered his hand again for Galen to shake. "Andrew Prescott, Spirit of Fire's Chief Engineer."

"Galen Tyrol, I'm Galactica's Deck Chief and uh," he cocked a playful smile. "Unofficial Chief Engineer."

Prescott chuckled. "Sounds like one heck of a heavy load you've got yourself there."

"Well, caffeine is a big help," Galen admitted, he had long since lost count of the all-nighters he'd pulled since the attack.

"Always is." Prescott agreed. "I'll get to the tour right after you tell your buddies there we have to report to the Bridge, Captain's orders. I'll make sure we pick up some headsets along the way down, they'll want to hear what the Skipper has to say."

\\\\\\\\\\\O

The slim door to the Bridge parted open automatically unlike the heavy manually operated doors on _Galactica_. To their front the Spirit of Fire's command center was revealed, half the size of Galactica's CIC but several times larger than Pegasus'. Prescott lead then inside, Galen's attention immediately taken by the holographic projection upon the table in the room's center displaying the local area of asteroid field Spirit was occupying and Galen had to restrain himself from going on an extended tangent to learn every minute detail on its operation.

Unknown to them, the Bridge's shutters had been sealed for the duration of the mining operation as to not potentially risk the impact of micrometeorites, giving them the impression that the Spirit's Bridge was like _Galactica_ and hidden in the center of the ship.

"Skipper, come take a look at who I found just sitting on the front porch." Prescott greeted with a holler.

An officer younger than Prescott came forth from overlooking some information at another Bridge officer's station wearing a combat-ready uniform which caught Galen and the Viper pilots off guard, expecting someone in much more formal attire as the Spirit of Fire's commanding officer. The subtly decorated cap under the headset he wore being one of the few features that distinguished his uniform from the other officers. Prescott offered the man a relaxed familiar salute, Galen, Finnegan and Esrin taking slightly longer salute after they overcame their surprise.

Captain Cutter returned it, locking eyes with the three Colonials before he lowered his hand. "At ease." He granted before setting his sights on Galen who was still in his orange engineering coveralls. "You must be Chief Tyrol, I'm glad yo have you aboard." He greeted, shaking hands with Galen.

"Uh, that's correct Commander." Galen blinked and shook his head apologetically. "Sorry, _Captain_. I mean…" He amended, confusing Colonial ranking structure for the obviously differentiating military ranking organization the Thirteenth Tribe used. "Chief Galen Tyrol reporting to offer assistance, Captain." He stated as he stood himself at attention, apparently rousing a bit of humor in the Captain as a smile creased his face.

"I said at ease Chief, you're not on trial here. I just need you and Mr. Prescott here to figure out a way to get the Spirit jump-capable again using a Colonial FTL drive and do so inside a month. Think you can accomplish that?"

"The timeframe will have to depend on my inspection of the Spirit but I can get to work immediately sir."

Cutter nodded in return. "That's good to hear, so I'd better not keep you waiting any longer. You and Mr. Prescott are dismissed." Cutter saluted.

Galen returned the salute, not minding the briefness of his first meeting with the Captain given that they would likely be seeing quite a bit of each other in the coming month. "Thank you Captain." He replied before leaving, passing the Raptor pilots on his way out the door with Chief Prescott.

"Now," Cutter began, directed at the two Colonials still in the room. "Would you two explaining what happened out there?"

The male pilot saluted crisply. "Sir, Lieutenant Jay Finnegan, sir. I was the pilot, the mistake was mine, sir. I was responsible." He admitted.

"Ensign Jesse Esrin, sir. I was the copilot and I was just as responsible as the Lieutenant."

Cutter held a neutral expression as he crossed his arms behind his back. "Explain Lieutenant."

"Sir, its standard Colonial protocol for journeys exceeding ten-thousand kilometers for the craft to initiate an FTL jump to the target location to reduce fuel consumption, sir."

There was a slight disapproving twitch on the Captain's face. "Does this look like a Colonial Uniform, Lieutenant?"

"No sir."

"Is this a Colonial ship?"

"No sir." Lieutenant Finnegan replied again.

"Do you think in the few hours we have known each other that the crew of this ship would be well-versed in Colonial protocols?"

"No sir!" Finnegan replied, fully realizing the stupidity of his mistake and failure to communicate. He had been so excited following the battle, so thrilled knowing that his fellow humans belonging to the Thirteenth Tribe were among the fleet, he had completely overlooked that they still were an entirely different civilization with a different language, customs and military protocol.

" _Spirit of Fire_ is not a Colonial ship, it is not a battlestar. This is a Phoenix-class Support Vessel of the United Nations Space Command Navy." Cutter stated solidly before stepping within arm's reach of the two. "Now I don't blame either of you for anything, this was an accident, but one that could have been avoided." The Captain then said in a calmer, more personal and forgiving tone. "You were lucky to survive or maybe you're actually just that good on the stick." He said, cocking a slight playful smile that gave the Colonials some ease. "As much as I know you want to right now, I can't send you home yet. With your damaged Raptor, it'll have to be carried back on a Pelican and until I've got fighters to spare for an escort flight through the asteroid field, that won't be possible for at least half a day. In the meantime until then, I'd like to request that the two of you brief a few of my Air Force officers on any information relating to Colonial protocols you believe is pertinent to the safety of ongoing flight operations between us and the Colonial Navy so accidents like the one that happened today won't happen again."

The Lieutenant and Ensign shared a brief glance before Lieutenant Finnegan spoke up. "I would be happy to help sir but I need to talk with _Galactica_ first on the matter."

"I've gone ahead and spoke with Colonel Tigh on the matter and he agrees." Cutter responded, expecting the young Lieutenant's response. "A Marine escort will be down momentarily to escort you up to Lieutenant Colonel McCullen's ready room. Do you have any questions?"

"Sir," Lieutenant Finnegan spoke with an air of hesitance. "Um, would it be possible for us to take back a souvenir, a picture or something to show the other pilots?" Finnegan asked sheepishly as the Bridge door opened for the pair of Marines meant to escort the Colonials.

Cutter's slim smile grew a bit more. "I'll see what I can do, Lieutenant. You are dismissed." The pilots saluted the Captain and Cutter returned the gesture and with that, they left, allowing the Captain to put his attention elsewhere. "Serina?"

"Yes Captain?" she answered as the AI appeared at her holotank.

"Inform _Colonial One_ I won't be able to attend any negotiation meetings at this time and continue monitoring the Fleet's communications, especially the civilian traffic." Cutter ordered with a more serious tone. "I want to know who we're getting in bed with before we commit to anything further than what we've already agreed to so far. I have a feeling that President Roslin was holding back some serious propositions during our first meeting. For now, transmit some bare specifications on the _Spirit of Fire_ to keep her happy."

"Aye sir, anything else?"

"Just keep an eye on the Colonials on the ship and make sure they don't either deliberately or mistakenly do or know anything they shouldn't."

 **APRIL 20 2534 1438 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **203 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 _ **COLONIAL ONE**_

 **49,564 SURVIVORS**

It had been four days since the first meeting between Laura Roslin and Captain Cutter but at long last he had returned aboard _Colonial One_ after an extensive mining operation undertaken by _Spirit of Fire_ on the far side of the system's asteroid belt, stripping out titanium, copper, gold and a list of other metals needed for repairs by means of the illegal practice of asteroid cracking under Colonial law, a practice that nearly saw to the deaths of three Colonial Military personnel. It was a matter Laura wished to broach during today's meeting as well as a number of others.

Captain Cutter passed through the curtained doorway to Laura's office with Billy closing it behind, giving her a brief glance at the black armored soldier that was the Captain's bodyguard.

Laura rose from her seat as Cutter walked up to her desk and they again shook hands pleasantly. "Madam President,"

"Captain," she greeted warmly.

"Where is Admiral Adama?" he asked, not noticing the older man's presence in the room, or Baltar's for that matter, though it seemed to matter far less.

Laura seated herself and Cutter followed suit, sitting himself on an office chair in front of her desk. "The Admiral won't be joining us today." Laura said with a tone of slight hesitance. "I was hoping for today's discussion it would just be between the two of us. I notice you decided not to bring miss Anders along either."

"She's still going over some of the inconsistencies she noticed in your scrolls." Cutter said, prompting Laura's brow to wrinkle in interest of Cutter's statement. "It's nothing," he said with a dismissive wave of the hand. "She's just a bit obsessive when it comes to the smaller details at times, that's all."

"Well if she would like any help, I'm sure I could find a priest that would be more than willing to offer the Professor some guidance." Cutter cracked a smile that was just a hair restrained from a chuckle and Laura smiled politely in reaction. "You're not a spiritual man, I'm guessing?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I don't mean to offend."

Laura's disingenuous politician's smile turned more genuine, seeing the humor in the moment. "It must seem pretty odd to meet a bunch of people still worshiping a dead religion." she said, still withholding those feelings of insult in the name of her Gods against the Thirteenth Tribe's apparent strong distaste for polytheism.

"It's just a novelty, it'll pass with time. And we're being honest, this entire situation does seem stranger than fiction." Cutter admitted.

Laura chuckled. "I bet it would read like a third-rate novel written by some trashy author."

"You want trashy, I should let you watch this ancient show one of my crew members brought aboard as a joke. They actually called it _Star Trek_."

"Oh, that sounds awful." Laura chuckled again.

"You have no idea." Cutter said, joining her for a moment in enjoying the levels of dark and absurd humor they felt, though for perhaps entirely separate reasons.

"So," Laura spoke with a pause to redirect the conversation back to where she wanted to head. "How goes Chief Tyrol's evaluation of the _Spirit of Fire_?"

"He says the Spirit definitely has the structural integrity to handle the strains of a jump but I could have already guessed that. The UNSC doesn't build its ships with brittle bones." He assured. "But given her mass, Chief Tyrol assesses she'll need three drives working in unison to jump successfully. Right now, he's still working with my Chief engineer to figure out where to place them throughout the ship where they can be networked in and won't compromise any other systems."

"Well, it's good to hear progress is being made." Laura commented. "I'm actually grateful I've had these extra days to prepare and had time to speak with the quorum. We've since all come to a decision regarding the _Spirit of Fire_." Laura said with nervous excitement and perhaps a bit of apprehension, catching the Captain's attention as she pulled a formal looking document from a folder containing only it alone. "I as the President and on the behalf of the members of the Quorum of Twelve, I would like to extend an offer to you Captain and your crew to join us as formal members of the Colonial Government under the Articles of Colonization. With full Quorum representation of course." She offered, hoping Cutter would happily accept and join with their long lost brethren after these thousands of years apart. Cutter took up the paper containing the Articles and began reading it over while Laura continued with the speech she had prepared. "And with that briefing packet you sent over on Spirit of Fire's capabilities, it has given me several ideas on how she can help the fleet." Roslin began flipping through some octagonal papers off to the side of her desk. "Oh yes, and I also wanted to ask you how many refugees the Spirit could potentially take on. The _Cybele_ , _Gideon_ and the _Thera Sita_ are all suffering from overcrowding and we don't have anywhere else to put them."

Cutter's response was not what she hoped for as he dawned a cautious and skeptical expression, as if he had been expecting her proposal. "I can't agree to any of this, madam President." He spoke much to Laura's sudden and surprised disappointment. "If I were to sign your Articles of Colonization, I as an officer of the UNSC Navy would be committing an act of treason by agreeing to obey Colonial Law and place myself under the command of your government and I am assuming Admiral Adama's. Secondly, the majority of the crew aboard _Spirit of Fire_ are military personnel, with very few civilians serving under circumstances like Professor Anders is. Your proposal also has me a bit confused. Four days ago, you requested me to grant you asylum in the UNSC and now you want us to join your government?"

"Well surely it would be a temporary arrangement until we reach Earth." Laura reasoned feeling distressed at the Captain's rejection. "The Fleet needs to see that we are unified in purpose, they need a show of unity with their Thirteenth Tribe and no one has heard a single word from anyone aboard your ship besides the crew of the _Galactica_."

"You keep on calling us that, the Thirteenth Tribe, but that's not how we see ourselves, madam President. Until four days ago, we thought we were the only humans in the whole universe. We never had any Lords of Kobol or fraternal colonies living on other worlds. We are the UNSC, we're from Earth, Tribute, Arcadia, Coral, I was born on Reach, colonies founded by Earth." Cutter listed to illustrate his point. "The UNSC is made of over eight-hundred planets, moons and asteroid colonies and now you're asking me just to forget all of that in the name of your fleet? A fleet that is barely held together by your government where there is a previously imprisoned _terrorist_ on your governing council," He said with bewildered emphasis on Tom Zarek's position on the Quorum. "Where crime is rampant, where the commanders of military vessels can be assassinated by crime lords." Cutter said referring to Commander Fisk's death at the hands of a criminal organization that ran the fleet's black market.

"That is speculative rumor, Captain." Laura interrupted, not liking shadowed path down which this conversation had traveled to.

"I don't intend any disrespect, but I'm not a fool madam President, I know what bullshit smells like. I turned down a promotion to Admiral because I couldn't stand the politicking that came with it. Its why I wear combat BDU's instead of a dress uniform every day, so my crew knows I'll choose them over my career no matter what. Personally, I am shocked and a bit appalled that Admiral Adama hasn't instituted martial law in the face of the catastrophe that's happened. But maybe he has a distaste for politics as well." Cutter deviated for a moment. "I might not even be speaking to you in eighty days with the upcoming elections which I honestly can't believe you agreed to."

Laura simply sat and listened, quietly stewing in her own frustration behind her mask, brought on by the unfortunate turn the conversation had taken. She wanted to see it his way, Cutter was a military man, like Bill Adama, of course he would feel the way he did about the Colonial government just like Adama had in the early days. But she had her duties as well to the people of the fleet, the 49,564 survivors of the cylon holocaust. To her he was being obstinate and to a degree apathetic to the fleet's obvious suffering. Bill had been right, Cutter would always put the men and women of his crew ahead of any person in the Colonial Fleet in spite of humanitarian needs and it was almost infuriating.

"I am willing to help you and this fleet as much as I am comfortable with but any relationship between it, under whatever administration that runs this fleet, and my ship is going to be a two-way street. _Spirit of Fire_ will exist as its own independently operating entity separate from the fleet and that's how it will remain until we arrive in UNSC space to grant you the asylum you requested of us. Not the other way around."

Laura continued to sit silent for a moment still before she removed her glasses, suppressing her feelings of indignation, chaffed by the Captain's rejection and harsh assessment of the Colonial government which she would fight to the death to defend. She wanted to act bitterly, retaliate by withholding the Hyperlight Drives from Cutter as blackmail until he agreed to her terms but that wasn't fair or even realistic seeing how the _Spirit of Fire_ outgunned both the fleet's battlestars in terms of pure destructive capability and had the only map with the relative position of Earth on it.

"Then I propose you select an ambassador to speak on the behalf of your ship, Captain. I believe it will make these… _ongoing_ negotiations less of a waste of our time." She cleared her throat. "I think that will be all for today, Captain. I think I'm going to turn in for the night."

Cutter curiously looked at his wristwatch but said nothing on the apparent disparity between the Fleet's time reference and the Spirit's. "Alright, feel free to send any messages to _Spirit of Fire_ if you need to contact me." Cutter said as he stood. "Madam President."

"Captain." She said considerably colder than at the start of today's meeting.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: So Roslin just lost her rosey view of Cutter and the Thirteenth Tribe, which is a theme you'll continue to see as the Fleet realizes the crew of the _Spirit of Fire_ are just as humanly flawed as themselves and that they might not be the altruistic saviors the Colonials had hoped for. Both Adama and Starbuck already lost that in prior chapters but Starbuck is still hopeful in building good relations between them and the _Spirit of Fire_ because despite her chronic angst, Starbuck's hope is what helps keep everyone going in the series.  
**

 **I also hope I got a bit of Cutter's character across that he identifies with and is far more open emotionally toward military personnel verses civilians and politicians. He believes in the UNSC and its unity through strength philosophy. Crime leads to insurrection and Roslin's administration has let that flourish dangerously in Cutter's eyes. Will he do anything about that, given that he has a very large Marine compliment at his disposal? That's yet to be seen.**

 **The technology in the device used to heal Chief Tyrol's cheek is canon, it appeared in Mortal Dictata. And since the _Spirit of Fire_ is an older ship, it wouldn't have any energy shield doors for its hangars which didn't appear until the 2540's, so it's launch bays and airlocks for her.  
**

 **Oh and for fans of BSG, I highly recommend you check out _House of the Dying Sun_ on Steam. It's a space flight sim with RTS elements made by ex-Bungie employees, heavily influenced by Battlestar Galactica and its dogfights. It's incredibly fun to pull off what the Blackbird did against the cylon resurrection ship on an enemy Battlecruiser with your nukes or drift strafing around a destroyer as you dodge its oncoming fire. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire**

(A Battlestar Galactica-Halo Wars crossover)

Episode 2

Heritage: Part 3

 _With_

 _Gideon Emery as Captain James Cutter_

 _Faye Kingslee as Ellen Anders_

 _Courtenay Taylor as Serina_

 _Willem Dafoe as Major Vladimir Markov_

 _Rob Mayes as Jerome-092_

 _Christopher Eccleston as Lieutenant Colonel Christian McCullen_

 _Zachary Quinto as Petty Officer Jonathan Green_

 _Chiwetel Ejiofor as Lieutenant Isaac Larson_

 _Michael Peña as Petty Officer Lukas Blake_

 _Jay Baruchel as Lieutenant Scott Travis_

 _Sam Elliott as Chief Engineer Andrew Prescott_

 _ **And Introducing Karl Urban as Major**_ _ **Soren Heidegger**_

 **APRIL 21 2534**

 **204 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 _ **CLOUD 9**_

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **49,563 SURVIVORS**

In a nondescript conference room aboard the Fleet's largest civilian ship, President Roslin entered the room filled with the noisily speaking representatives that made up the Quorum of Twelve currently seated at a lengthy conference table.

"Thank you all for coming." Roslin thanked as she took her seat at the head of the table.

"I presume this is about our proposal to Captain Cutter to join the Colonial government?" Marshall Bagot, the representative of Virgon put forth.

"That is correct, Mr. Bagot." Roslin said with some hesitancy, as she prepared herself.

The darker skinned representative from Gemenon, Sarah Porter opened her palm laying on the table in a gesture of emptiness at the President's words. "And? How did he respond? Did he reject some of the proposals?"

"He…rejected all of it." Roslin stated succinctly as if she were ripping off a bandage. "From the Articles to even taking on refugees, he flat out refused to take any of it into consideration." She said, sparking several discussions between the Quorum members.

"I could have told you this was going to happen." Tom Zarek, of Sagittaron spoke up with a sagacious tone that came off to Roslin as self-indulgent, knowing Zarek's act as a man of the people as only an instrument to feed into his own political ends. It irritated her to no end that so few people could see that. "We're not dealing with just another Colony like the President here thinks we are. Earth's people have been separated from us for a length of time exceeding four-thousand years. Of course they would feel hesitant, an entire fleet of people that just popped out of the blue asked them if they wanted to sign over their rights to our laws. That would definitely make me more than a little bit warry if I was under those circumstances." Zarek said as an indirect criticism toward Laura. "What we're dealing with is a foreign government just like we all were to each other prior to the signing of the Articles over fifty years ago." Zarek explained. "That's how we need to treat this situation."

"That was not the issue Mr. Zarek." Roslin stated solidly with a harsh tone. "At least not anymore."

Safiya Sanne of Picon darted his eyes left and right in apparent confusion. "What has the issue become, madam President?"

"It has come to my attention that Captain Cutter considers the Fleet and its people, the people we represent at far less value than anyone aboard his own ship. I personally don't think he feels a kinship of any kind with anyone of the Twelve Colonies on even a humanitarian basis." This brought on further murmurs that were quickly silenced as she continued. "So much so that I have become concerned as to if he will keep his promise to take us to Earth once his ship is FTL capable."

"You think he will leave us behind?" Sarah Porter asked again.

Roslin removed her glasses. "I think it is a very real possibility when we take into consideration that by leading us to Earth and her own colonies that we may very well be leading the cylons there as well, opening them to the same form of attack that we all have suffered."

"We would be bringing war to their doorstep." Eldaio Pulsha of Scorpia commented, seeing Roslin's train of thought.

Laura cleared her throat. "From what I've learned about the cylons from the captured model of Sharon Valerii aboard the _Galactica_ , the cylons would likely feel drawn into conflict with the Thirteenth Tribe in fear of retaliation for what they did to our worlds. When you place yourself in Captain Cutter's viewpoint, if the cylons never find out where Earth is, then the people of the Thirteenth Tribe will never have to throw away lives in a war that was never theirs to begin with. So yes, I believe this is a very serious possibility."

"Well, how do you suggest we respond, madam President?" Zarek asked with a hint of condescension.

 **APRIL 23 2534, 0745 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **UNSC _SPIRIT OF FIRE_ CFV-88**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **49,562 SURVIVORS**

"Jeez, can you believe this B.S?" Petty Officer Lukas Blake said, reading the latest issue of the ship's self-published newspaper while his fellow Petty Officer and member of the Bridge crew did battle with the coffee machine. Currently, the pair were situated in a small break room a few decks above the Bridge that had miraculously survived the Spirit's conversion from a colony ship to naval support vessel. It wasn't big, with only a single small table positioned in the middle of the small room, barely big enough for a cramped game of poker for three people.

Petty Officer Jonathan Green grunted as he hit the side of the machine with the side of his closed fist. "Damn it." the ship's helmsman quietly swore.

"Hey," Luke spoke up. "You read this?"

With a roll of the eyes and a sigh Jon answered as he pulled open the machine's casing. "No, I haven't yet." He said passively until coming across the source of his frustrations. "Serina, what the hell is going on, I just want _a little_ sugar in my coffee and this thing is full on liquid sweetener."

"Too much sugar is bad for you Mr. Green," Serina's voice came over the intercom. "I'm merely acting in the best interest for your health. I would like to suggest you try some tea instead, you are from New Harmony after all, I'd think you'd be comfortable with a cup."

" _You're_ doing this?" a frustrated helmsman asked.

"You'll thank me in eighty years Mr. Green." Serina spoke with assurance.

Luke chuckled as he took a sip of the liquid in his own mug marked with the Spirit of Fire's iconic emblem. "Won't fricking matter if we don't make it home. Serina, is this shit right? The Colonial…" he squinted at the paper. "How do you pronounce this?"

"Quorum." Serina replied.

"Yeah thanks," he acknowledged as he continued. "Their Quorum is calling for us to end our mining op because those flyboys nearly bought it a week ago. Not our fault they forgot how a fucking radio works. _'We request that Commander Cutter put an immediate halt to the Spirit of Fire's dangerous practice of asteroid detonation mining, a practice that has been discontinued under Colonial law for a hundred and six years.' - asks the Colonial President, Laura Roslin._ " Luke quoted, huffing an indignant laugh as a response. "Well sorry lady, I'll remember to pack our fucking pickaxes next time we decide to get stranded out in the middle of space, _perra_ _estúpida_." He swore in Spanish.

"They're just cross that the Captain blew off their offer to sign off his right to independent command for practically nothing in return, which is how I am beginning to feel a bit myself if I don't get my coffee this morning Serina." Jon said in an annoyed raised tone of voice.

"I don't even see why you like the stuff," Luke commented. "It's just a load of artificial flavoring mixed in with a tiny bit of caffeine powder. I just take the powder plain in water and that does me fine."

Scott turned to face him with a cocked eyebrow. "I don't. Wait, you're drinking just warm water?"

Luke grinned in return. "Grandad was an asteroid miner in Epsilon Eridani back in his day, he called it Belter's Tea. You get used to it."

"Can't be any worse than this pigswill." Jon admitted, pouring the contents of his mug down the drain of the small sink before placing it back under the tap of the coffee machine. "Anything else in there?" Jon asked the older Petty Officer as the man flipped through the pages. "Are they going to hold their FTL drives hostage if we don't play ball with them?"

"Hey, Spirit has cryo-tubes, if they want to turn this into a waiting game, they're gonna fucking lose. What do you think Serina?"

"Nothing more than politicians complaining and making empty threats." Serina assessed.

"So, doing what they do best then." Jon added as he pulled his freshly filled mug out while Luke set the paper down on the table seeing Jon was ready to head for the Bridge. The two left together, Jon taking an experimental sip of his 'tea', causing him to shake his head. "That is… something." he said, as he swallowed the tasteless warm water. "So, what's on the schedule for today Serina?" he asked.

"The Captain's set up a rendezvous with the Battlestar _Pegasus_ to pick up the first of our Colonial Hyperlight Drives at oh-nine-thirty hours, Major Heidegger will be taking personal command of that operation. And while we're in the vicinity, the Captain will be headed aboard the _Galactica_ to meet with Admiral Adama personally and participate in a ceremony to honor the Colonial pilots who died during our first battle with the cylons. After that, Captain has us headed back out into the belt to crack some more rocks. I've finally managed to parse out a few decent sized deposits of tungsten for our MAC array and turrets."

The pair then stepped into the open door of the elevator down to the Bridge. "That's our Captain." Luke said proudly as he took another gulp from his mug right as the doors closed.

 **APRIL 23 2534, 0805 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR _GALACTICA_ BS-75**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

Two such coffee mugs were being clinked together in a showboating display of them to all the other pilots in the Galactica's rec room as Jay and Jesse brought their souvenirs from their trip to the _Spirit of Fire_ together before taking a drink, their mark as the first Colonials to have ever set foot on the Spirit much to Starbuck's chagrin, having missed out on her chance due to Reilly being a jumpy little shit.

Kara offered the annoyed false smile she often bore in return. "Yeah, laugh it up you two," she said to the pair sitting comfortably at a table wearing proud shit-eating grins as they soaked in the moment. "Didn't you two also get an ass-chewing from the Captain while you were over there?" she remarked in effort to take the wind from their sails.

Then without warning the door to the room swung open violently, creating a godawful screech from the hinges that had likely not seen a drop of oil in a decade. Kat came barging through, still wearing her flight suit from running CAP for the mining ship. She made a beeline for the room's bottle of the Chief's homemade moonshine, filling an empty mug with what looked like three-fingers full before downing the whole thing at once. The porcelain mug knocked loudly against the table as she slammed it down in apparent frustration.

"Shit, Kat what happened?" Helo asked as he walked up with a bit of trepidation as the Viper pilot slid down into a chair at the empty table.

Kat responded by pulling something out from her flight jacket and slamming it on the table as well, revealed to be a pair of hexagonal dog tags still stained with fresh blood.

"Reilly?" Starbuck asked, trying to figure out what happened.

"That fraker got another of us." Kat said with simmering rage.

"Shit that makes three of us he's gotten." Esrin said with a far more dour tone.

Starbuck leaned down, placing her elbows on the table as she tried to look at Kat's eyes on her downward facing head. "You sure it was the same one?" she asked with great seriousness, not wanting to put any more credence on the growing rumor that there was a cylon ace hunting Viper pilots down. With Reilly, that made three lost so far.

"It was the same one Starbuck. The Raider with the fraked up face. _Scar_." Kat said with deliberate and anger-filled sentences before she poured herself another cup of booze.

Starbuck rose back up, not knowing what else to do for her former trainee besides let her work it out herself in Kat's own way. Gods she hoped things were going better for Lee on the _Pegasus_.

 **APRIL 23 2534, 0932 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR _PEGASUS_ BS-62**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

It was an auspicious day for the Fleet with many a camera pointed out the portholes and windows of the various civilian ships at the iconic profile of the _Spirit of Fire_ as she gracefully flew into the Fleet to come alongside the _Pegasus_ which even she, the ship the Fleet had given the moniker of _'Beast'_ to, seemed small beside the tall-profiled UNSC ship.

" _Battlestar Pegasus, this is Major Heidegger aboard Pelican Flight Zero-Alpha-One inbound for pickup of precious cargo."_ The UNSC Air Force Major communicated to the Landing Signal Officer's station within the Pegasus' topside port flight pod where another Major by the name of Lee Adama, the Pegasus' XO was taking personal command of the FTL exchange between _Pegasus_ and the _Spirit of Fire_.

"Copy that Pelican Flight, this is Major Lee Adama, I got you on DRADIS now making your final approach, call the ball."

 _"I have the ball. Bravo-Two, stay eight-mark-five meters off my wing."_ The Major instructed

 _"Rodger that sir."_ The pilot of the other pelican replied.

Out the window Lee could see the pair of large dropships that looked vaguely like super-sized Raptors glide beautifully into the interior of the landing deck, deploying lengthy landing struts off of its overhanging tail and landing off to the side of the landing strip, one in front of the other with the aid of two aviation handlers and their light wands.

" _Touchdown."_ Both pilots communicated. _"Setting engines to standby, awaiting arrival of precious cargo."_

 **APRIL 23 2534, 0935 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR _GALACTICA_ BS-75**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"Thank you for having me aboard again Admiral." Cutter thanked as he and Admiral Adama made their way down the triangular halls in the direction of the pilots' ready room under escort of two Colonial Marines and the Captain's ODSTs.

"Thank you for doing this for my pilots. I honestly wasn't expecting this given the circumstances of our initial contact." Adama thanked in returned, breaking his usual stoicism. "I also heard reports on your last meeting with the President."

"It's the least I can do for them, as for President Roslin, I've been sending her messages but she hasn't been responding to any of them since I refused to hand over operational command of my ship, which I hope you can understand why I refused."

"I can." Was Bill's simple reply, short and to the point as ever.

Cutter shifted the simple narrow white box under his left arm to get a better grip on it. "From this point on I was hoping coordination between Spirit and the Fleet could be done through the two of us so we can leave out this political nonsense. I don't think the Quorum or the President has a proper grasp on reality right now."

"They're holding on to as much as what's left of their old lives as they can." Adama explained tactfully. "We need to keep moral up among the civilian population as much as possible. Our entire civilization just got destroyed."

"I realize that Admiral, but right now they're nothing but an obnoxious pain in the ass. Spirit is a warship, there's nothing else she can do to get the ore she needs besides asteroid cracking and I need my ship back up at full offensive capability with the cylons still out there." Cutter stated as they came to the hatch to the ready room, which the Marine at guard opened for them.

"Attention on deck!" a pilot called out as the pair of naval commanders entered, causing a rustling of bodies as the assembled Colonial pilots seated in the ascending rows of chairs stood to salute. At the head of the room, a young woman with short golden-blonde hair and sharp features too saluted adjacent to a podium, briefly locking eyes with Captain Cutter.

He followed Adama to the podium as the ODSTs and Marines stood off to the side of the room as to not get in the way of the ceremony. Adama saluted the young woman and Cutter followed suit. "At ease." Adama said loudly to the assembled pilots who then resumed their seats. "Captain Cutter, this is Captain Kara Thrace. I believe the two of you know one another."

Cutter and Starbuck shook hands, offering each other genuinely pleasant smiles subdued only by the ceremony of the moment. "It's nice to finally put a face to the voice Captain. Though, I know I won't be able to understand a damn thing you say right now."

Cutter said nothing in return, knowing it to be so and instead presented the Galactica's Air Group Commander the plain box he was holding.

Kara took it, removing the lid and revealing a wooden plaque emblazoned with the emblem of the _Spirit of Fire_ like the one on the mugs Finnegan and Esrin brought back. This one was over ten centimeters across and made with various metals, the gold being the most obvious and made Starbuck's eyes light up. She almost didn't notice the lettering around the emblem was spelled out in plain Caprican, including the ship's apparent motto:

 _'The Outcome Justifies the Deed.'_

Further down the plaque were the seals of the Colonies and the UNSC beside each other also in gold above two separate lists in gold plating of the casualties both parties took in the air battle.

Off to the side Cutter pulled a folded slip of paper from a pocket in the fold of his tunic. "The Captain here was hoping you would speak on his behalf." Admiral Adama told to Kara as he held out his hand in an offer to take the box. She accepted, giving the box and taking the speech from Cutter and took a stand at the podium, clearing her throat a moment before she unfolded the paper to begin.

" _Ladies_ and _gentlemen_ of the Colonial Fleet Air Arm. Well, that's being generous." Starbuck said as a joking aside that brought on more than a few laughs from the pilots whom the playful insult was directed at. "It gives me great honor today to join the same men and women my own pilots fought alongside in the face of overwhelming odds to which we won a stunning victory over our enemies." Starbuck said proudly but as she read the next few lines, her smile faded. "Yet victories seldom come without cost. We are reminded of that cost when we see the empty seats and beds, when we speak aloud and think of what those lost would have said if they were still with us, when we mistakenly see the ghosts of friends linger in our periphery, even though we know them to be gone. They are not here so we can be and continue the fight for the sake of the people we care about and the safety of humanity." Starbuck swallowed a slight lump in her throat before she took a breath to continue.

"This plaque will serve as an eternal reminder of the first day the Thirteen Tribes fought together once more." Adama removed the plaque from the box completely and handed it up to Kara who then held it aloft for all the pilots to see. "Constructed of gold, copper, titanium and iron found in this system where the battle took place so that we may, in a way always have a connection to the place where we left friends and comrades behind. In body... but not in spirit." Kara finished to an applause by her pilots who then gave her and Captain Cutter a standing ovation. Kara's smile returned and she waved up Hot Dog to take the plaque for her while she again shook hands with the Captain, thanking him.

\\\\\\\\\\\O

"That was a good speech," Adama congratulated as the pair again walked the halls, the ceremony having ended. "I'm sorry that you couldn't give it yourself."

"It was better Captain Thrace gave it, they were her pilots. She deserved it." Cutter replied.

Adama then slowed to a stop at a Y intersection as he wore a pensive expression that raised Cutter's curiosity. "This way," he said, leading the Captain down the path to the right.

"Are we still headed for the CIC?" Cutter asked after a minute of walking.

"We're making a detour. There's a matter that needs to be brought to your attention."

Adama's words made Cutter's eyebrows narrow but he said nothing and continued to follow until they came to a hatch guarded by two Marines.

"Open it." Adama ordered.

"Sir," the Marine replied and followed the Admiral's command. Cutter followed Adama inside, the ODSTs sticking close to him should something happen in the next moments. Two more Marines stood guard on the inside of the doorway facing what looked to be a containment cell containing a young woman who then stood up from a cot with brown hair and facial structure indicative of Asian descent though it was extremely unlikely she even knew what Asia was.

"Who is she?" Cutter asked, reserving a slew of greater questions, knowing Adama had brought him here for a reason.

The woman looked at the two through the glass confused but barely showing it. "She's a cylon." Adama stated, catching Cutter by surprise as he took his eyes from the very human looking woman and placed them on the Admiral who continued to stare through the reinforced glass. It wasn't that he didn't know of the existence of these humanoid cylon infiltrators, the civilian fleet's unencrypted transmissions and Serina saw to that, but the fact that Adama had one as a prisoner, he did not expect. "She was captured several months ago, she claims she wants to defect and has been providing us with intelligence on the enemy."

"I've heard about them over the fleet's chatter but I never thought one would look so…human." Cutter said as he stepped right up to the cell as did the apparent cylon who looked him over in attempt to figure out who this newcomer was. On her side of the glass the cylon picked up a corded phone handset hooked into the wall of the cell and 'she' looked back to Cutter's eyes, his own immediately finding another on his own side. "Admiral, with your permission, I'd like to ask it a few questions." Cutter asked with curiosity painting his voice.

In response Adama took up the handset and flipped a switch beside the phone's wall hook, causing a then unseen intercom speaker above the cell to pop electronically as it came to life.

"This is one of them, right?" the woman's voice came over the intercom. "Helo told me you actually found a ship of the Thirteenth Tribe but I almost didn't believe him." She said, continuing to examine Cutter's foreign looking uniform like she wasn't sure he was real.

Adama held the handset upside-down as he spoke into the receiver. "This is Captain James Cutter, commander of the ship we encountered. He would like me to ask you a few questions."

The cylon's brow furrowed in a very human fashion. "Why doesn't he talk to me directly?"

"We don't speak the same language." Adama said briefly before he looked back to Cutter. "What do you want to say?"

"I'll skip over the obvious ones you've probably already asked it." Cutter directed at Adama. "I only have a few questions concerning the cylon centurion Red Team captured aboard _Galactica_."

"What about it?"

"When our engineers dismantled it, and hacked into its systems, they discovered a device that served as an inhibitor for higher cognitive processes. It was a robot in every sense of the word, unlike the ones your people fought in the first war. I want to know why that is."

Adama, who seemed to be just as curious about that bit of information relayed Cutter's question to the prisoner.

"That device you found was what the Cylons call a telencephalic inhibitor. The humanoid models installed them covertly in the Centurions years ago."

"Why would cylons want to lobotomize their own?" Adama asked freely without Cutter's prompting.

"To prevent the mistakes of the past." She replied as if it should be clear to them. "Keep the centurions from rebelling from us the same way they did to the Colonies. Humanoid cylons were the next step in cylon evolution but we still needed foot soldiers. And what better way to make sure your soldiers never question orders if they can't even think to ask."

It was an answer that intrigued Adama as much as Cutter. "So, the humanoid models are in charge." Cutter said pensively. "That's interesting. There's distinction in rank between the models then? What about the humanoid ones, is there one type in overall command?" Cutter asked and Adama relayed.

"No, they operate in consensus." She answered with a lingering unsaid caveat both men picked up on. "However… there are individuals even within the models that do hold some sway."

"I thought each model was programmed with their own personalities." Adama spoke. "That there was no individuality among a model's copies because of that."

"Am I the same as Boomer was?" she asked Adama.

"No," Adama admitted. "Not completely at least."

"Each copy's experiences are shared with the others of its model when we download to a new body but it will never be as equally felt as the one who actually experienced it. I guess that's just natural." She finished, seemingly aware of the irony.

Cutter took a second to consider the implications this brought to the table before he turned back to Adama. "Thank you for bringing me here Admiral, it was very enlightening." Though in the Captain's mind, it only raised further questions but ones that could wait for the time being.

"That's it then?"

Cutter glanced back at the eerily human appearing cylon. "For now. But if you do have any further intelligence on the Cylons gathered from your interrogation of this one, I hope you'll be willing to share it later."

"We'll head for the CIC then." Adama stated, hanging up the handset without a word to the prisoner before departing.

 **APRIL 23 2534, 0950 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **UNSC _SPIRIT OF FIRE_ CFV-88**

 **SHAW-FUJIKAWA TRANSLIGHT ENGINE ROOM**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"Okay, everything should be ready," Chief Tyrol spoke as he checked the Colonial power adapter he'd fitted on to the UNSC power conduit cable that was as thick as his thigh. "Now all we need is an FTL drive to plug all this stuff into." He said, looking about at the assortment of tools and diagnostic devices he and Chief Prescott would need to make sure the integration went smoothly.

"Don't get ahead of yourself now," Prescott cautioned in his rustic sagely fashion. "We still got two more drives to install and we haven't even started on the one we don't have yet. Who knows what problems Spirit will throw at us once we really get to work." Galen had learned quite a bit about all the systems and the advanced technology that made _Spirit of Fire_ run in the week they'd worked together. Galen felt like a kid again when he got to see the Spirit's fusion reactor nestled in the heart of Engineering, going over whether or not its output could affect the Spirit when she made a jump. But from what he'd learned, he thought this ship could fly to the end of the galaxy and back if she had to.

"Nah," he disagreed. "A state of the art girl like this, we'll have it all done inside of a week I bet." Galen estimated with positivity.

Prescott chuckled as he cleaned his tools with an oil-stained cloth.

"What?" Galen asked curiously.

"It's nothing, it's just I don't ever think I've heard anyone call Spirit state of the art before. Hell, she's about as old as me!" A smiling Prescott said.

"Wait, how old is she?"

Prescott rolled his jaw as he pondered that question. "Well, let's see here, current year is I think twenty-five-thirty-four, she was commissioned as a colony ship in twenty-four-seventy-three, so sixty-one years.

Galen's eyes widened. That made _Spirit of Fire_ older than the _Galactica_ if that was true. But Prescott said one other thing that caught the Colonial Chief's attention. "Hold on, you said colony ship, what does that mean?"

Chief Prescott set his socket wrench down and picked up a metal-cased power drill with a well-worn handle and checked the battery pack. "Spirit didn't start her life out as a warship, Chief. Her first commission was under Earth's Colonial Administration Authority to help colonize planets. Terraforming and passenger transport. I do believe she even paid a visit to Professor Anders' homeworld when that was just getting built up groundside." Prescott explained. "Then when the insurrection was starting to be a pain in the ass, the UNSC bought her up and had her completely refitted as a carrier and fleet support ship on account colony ships are about the only thing bigger than a frigate that can fly in-atmosphere."

"Gods, I thought this was a battleship!" Galen said with astonishment while Chief Prescott laughed again at what Galen had mistakenly thought of the Spirit.

"Yeah, compared to those tubs of yours, I bet you did." The older Engineer commented, setting the drill down. "Well, she's well-armed, all things considered but if it had been a heavy cruiser or one of those Epoch-class Carriers that took those _'cylon'_ nukes instead of her, the only thing the repair crews would have to do is replace a few sections of hull armor, simple as that.

Galen sighed both at his misconceptions and the Spirit's newly revealed capabilities. "You know, if we had just ten of these things, I bet we could march on back and retake the Colonies." The Chief postulated sadly.

"Well maybe we can help you out with that eventually. If our drive ever gets here." The older man said with a tone of annoyance, reminding Galen of why they had been waiting in the first place.

"Good question, what the hell is taking them so long?" he curiously asked.

 **APRIL 23 2534, 1004 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR _PEGASUS_ BS-62**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

Over thirty minutes had passed, far longer than it was supposed to take to raise the FTL Drive up the cargo lift to the deck and it was making Lee annoyed.

" _Pegasus, this is Pelican Flight, what's the hold up? Over."_ Major Heidegger hailed.

"Standby Pelican Flight, I'm going to check it out." Lee said, curious about that himself. He turned his chair at the station to the phone mounted on the wall and took the handset up. "CIC," he directed to the computerized operator system.

A moment passed as Lee's call was directed. _"CIC,"_ Lieutenant Hoshi responded.

"This is the XO at the Number-Two LSO station. I need to know status of the FTL Drive, I've got two dropships and a pissed-off UNSC Major from _Spirit of Fire_ who have been sitting here for the past thirty minutes."

 _"Sir, Commander Garner has delayed FTL movement to the cargo lift temporarily, he's on a call with Colonial One. He says to standby, sir."_ Lee waited, puzzled as to why Garner would be on the phone with President Roslin.

 _"Major?"_ he heard Lieutenant Hoshi ask to test if he was still connected.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

 _"The Commander wants you to instruct the Pelicans to position themselves on the cargo lifts to bring them inside, the Commander needs to speak with their commanding officer and he wants you there with him."_

Lee didn't understand but he supposed orders were orders. "Copy, I will relay the Commander's instructions. XO out." With that, Lee hung up the phone and turned back to the station and opened a wireless channel back to the Pelicans and the deck's ground crews.

"Pelican flight, this is the Major Adama. I have been instructed by Commander Garner to direct your craft to the Number One and Two Cargo Lifts. The Commander wants to meet you inside."

" _What the hell, this was supposed to be a hand off, not a meet and greet?"_

"Those are the Commander's instructions." Lee spoke with nothing else he could offer.

 _"Fine, we are advancing to the cargo lifts and I better here a damn good explanation inside."_ The Major frustratingly confirmed.

"I'll see you down there." Lee signed off as he handed off his station to the other officer in the room.

\\\\\\\\\\\O

Lee made it down first of course, being just a deck away. He entered through a hatch to catch his first up-close glimpse of a Thirteenth Tribe ship in all is ugly olive-colored glory. As he approached, the troop bay door under the tail of the lead Pelican opened and a man about Lee's height in a lightly armored flight suit and full-faced helmet stepped out at an impatient pace.

"I'm Major Lee Adama," Lee greeted, holding out his hand which the man shook but seemingly only out of politeness.

"Major Soren Heidegger, UNSC Air Force." He said with a brief tone through the helmet's synthesizer. "Mind telling me what the hell is going on Major?"

"I… wish I knew." Lee admitted with a smile that belied his own suppressed frustrations.

A sharp and loud creak coupled with the bangs of slamming doors stole his attention as a swarm of Pegasus' Marines flooded into the immediate area with weapons raised. Lee saw Major Heidegger reach for his sidearm but only had time to get a hold on the grip before six Marines had their rifles trained on his chest and he was forced to let it go with a quietly muffled curse. Another squad of Marines poured into the Pelican's rear and shortly pulled out the other two members of the flight crew as well as the flight crew of the other Pelican and pushed them to kneel in a line on the deck beside the Pelican.

Then from behind, the portly Commander Garner appeared as he stepped into the hangar deck under guard. "Commander Garner what's going on?" Lee demanded.

"You're in charge?" An outraged Major Heidegger asked. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Placing you and your men under arrest." The former Chief Engineer of the _Pegasus_ answered.

"What, on whose order?" Lee asked, barely believing what was happening.

"On mine and the President's, Major." Garner spoke with a short tone of implied authority.

Heidegger's head looked around, like Lee not believing the reality of the moment. "That's crazy, we have a truce!"

"Lieutenant Minth, take these men to the brig but leave two of the pilots under armed guard here and prepare for assault."

"Sir," the Lieutenant responded, relieving the Major of his silver-plated sidearm and zip-tying his hands behind his back before hauling him and the others off under much complaint from Major Heidegger who decried their and the Commander's actions as illegal, his voice growing ever fainter as he got further and further away.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Throughout history there have been very few black and white cases of right versus wrong. All motivations can be categorized into varying shades of grey and good people can do terrible things for reasons they feel are just. I liked the opening scene where the Quorum is talking about the moral consequences of involving the UNSC in the Cylon War, particularly because Cutter is potentially doing the same thing to them without the Colonials' knowledge.  
**

 **ALSO: I'd like to thank everyone for their continued support of Guiding Fire and my other stories.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Richard Hatch, who played Apollo in the classic Battlestar Galactica Series and Tom Zarek in the Reimagined Series. You will be missed.**

 **Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire**

Episode 2

Heritage: Part 4

 _With_

 _Gideon Emery as Captain James Cutter_

 _Faye Kingslee as Ellen Anders_

 _Courtenay Taylor as Serina_

 _Willem Dafoe as Major Vladimir Markov_

 _Rob Mayes as Jerome-092_

 _Christopher Eccleston as Lieutenant Colonel Christian McCullen_

 _Zachary Quinto as Petty Officer Jonathan Green_

 _Chiwetel Ejiofor as Lieutenant Isaac Larson_

 _Michael Peña as Petty Officer Lukas Blake_

 _Jay Baruchel as Lieutenant Scott Travis_

 _Sam Elliott as Chief Engineer Andrew Prescott_

 _Karl Urban as Major_ _Soren Heidegger_

 _ **And Introducing Bruce Willis as Colonel Maxwell Shaw**_

 **APRIL 23 2534 / 1010 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **PEGASUS**_ **BS-62**

 **PORTSIDE HANGAR DECK**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **49,561 SURVIVORS**

"Commander Garner, what do you mean this is under the President's orders? Those were our allies you just had arrested." Lee asked, still shocked with disbelief and standing with the Commander behind the UNSC Pelican captured moments ago.

"I did this under her direct instructions, Major. It has become a priority concern of the President's that Captain Cutter will leave the Fleet behind the second he has the chance in order to keep the cylons from finding Earth. To ensure that doesn't happen, the President feels it will be necessary for us to take direct action to seize the _Spirit of Fire_ and her navigational data."

"Does the Admiral know about this?" Lee questioned with his arm pointed in the general direction of the _Galactica_.

"I would assume so." Garner stated. "Now report to the CIC and set Condition One throughout the ship. I will stay here to brief the assault teams on their mission."

Lee lingered, as the sense of military duty and his own sense of personal justice battled inside him. "Do you understand your orders Major?" Garner asked with a hefty tone.

Lee shut his mouth into a deadpan expression that still did not quite hide the fire in his eyes as he gave the Commander a salute. "Sir," he returned before about-facing and departed.

Lee headed back at a brisk pace, seeing several Marines headed the opposite direction, including when he arrived at the top of the lift that ran between the flight pod and the rest of the battlestar. Shortly thereafter he came to one of the ship's maintenance storage lockers and ducked inside quietly, thankfully finding a wall mounted phone among the shelves of equipment. "CIC,"

 _"CIC?"_ Lieutenant Hoshi again answered.

"This is the XO," Lee said with urgency. "I need you to get me an emergency direct line to _Galactica_. I need to speak with the Admiral immediately."

 _"Sir…"_ Hoshi replied with reluctance. _"You know I can't do that, senior-level communiques can only be exchanged in the CIC, that's basic protocol sir."_

Lee let out a frustrated huff of air. "You want my authorization code, fine. Alpha-seven-niner-three-gamma-nebula-five-two-one-constellation. Now get me the Admiral!"

 **APRIL 23 2534 / 1010 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **GALACTICA**_ **BS-75**

 **CIC**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM  
**

Entering the CIC with the Admiral, Cutter was impressed with vast layout of it all as he followed Adama to the tabled command station beneath the hanging tower of monitors at the center of the room where Colonel Tigh stood waiting.

"Captain," the executive officer greeted with welcome as they shook hands.

"Colonel," Cutter returned. "Good to see you again."

"So, what do you think of it all?" Tigh asked, curious as to the UNSC Captain's opinion

Cutter glanced about, seeing quite a bit of antiquated technology, coupled with the excess of personnel numbering in the dozens needed to accommodate the needs that old tech demanded. Admittingly, he felt a bit lost, not knowing where the 'front' of the room was without there being a view of the space ahead of the ship. It was a smart design the Colonials shared with the Covenant by locating the bridge as far inside the vessel as possible but for the slightly claustrophobic Captain it might have made him feel slightly disoriented were it not for the CIC's grandiose amphitheater-like design.

"Well, I can definitely say I have never been in a Bridge quite like this before, Colonel." He said, placing his hands on the underlit table covered with a small number of transparent maps of areas within the local system. "I take it this is where it all goes down?"

"Command and Control." Tigh said with a drawn-out tone that spoke to the pride he felt the ship.

"I notice there aren't any chairs, isn't that a safety issue?" Cutter observed.

"We've all taken our licks," Tigh admitted with a smirk. "But it's better for the crew to see their commanding officers being active to keep the lot from slacking off themselves."

"Admiral?" a young dark skinned woman sitting not far away at a station spoke up. "I have Apollo on the line for you, he said it's urgent."

Adama turned his head back toward Captain Cutter and Colonel Tigh and gave them a polite nod. "Excuse me." He said before he walked over to the woman's station.

"Well Colonel, care to show me around this flying bunker of yours?" Cutter prompted.

\\\\\\\\\\\O

Adama stepped up to Dualla's station, removing the UNSC headset and replacing it with a spare Dualla kept for such occasions. "This is the Admiral," he said casually.

 _"Dad, please tell me this wasn't your idea."_ Bill heard his son speak in a stressed tone of voice much to his confusion.

Bill's brow pinched at the desperation painting Lee's voice. "Lee, what are you talking about, what's going on?"

 _"Commander Garner just arrested the UNSC pilots sent here to pick up the FTL drive and he's going to force two of them to fly a Marine strike force to seize control of the Spirit of Fire. He said it was under the President's orders!"_

Adama's face tightened as he glanced over to Cutter on the other side of the room at the Tactical Station speaking with Lieutenant Gaeta who seemed to be borrowing Colonel Tigh's headset. Whatever was happening, Bill needed to handle this quick and quietly. If he could resolve this before things escalated he could play it down to Cutter later but right now Bill felt that involving the UNSC Captain might only make matters worse. The last thing this Fleet needed was another potential skirmish with the _Spirit of Fire_. "I never approved anything like that. Where are you now?"

 _"In a maintenance locker, it was the closest place with a phone I could find."_

"Get to the CIC, take control of the situation and I'll get to the bottom of what's going on. Place Commander Garner under arrest if you have to, but those dropships do not leave the flight pod."

" _Understood Admiral,"_ a slightly more composed sounding Lee replied. _"I'll contact you once I have the situation under control."_

"Good. _Galactica_ Actual out." Adama pressed the button to close the channel and looked back to Dualla who looked more than a little uneasy, overhearing the conversation. "Get me the President."

"She's already on the line for you sir." Dualla said ominously.

"Put her through." He ordered, waiting a second for the Petty Officer to switch him over. "Madam President?" he asked with his tone deadpan, not wanting to give away he knew anything to whomever was acting against Captain Cutter.

" _Admiral, I'm sorry but I'll have to skip the pleasantries. Do you know where Captain Cutter is aboard your ship?"_ Adama heard Roslin ask.

"Yes," he answered to Roslin's ominous question. "He's currently here in the CIC, Colonel Tigh is giving him the tour around." Adama responded, looking back up to see a rather elated Lieutenant Gaeta apparently explaining the Fleet combat air patrol to the Captain using the transparent green Tactical Plot, the three men still unaware to the unfolding chain of events.

" _I want you to place him under arrest immediately."_ Roslin said without hesitation.

Bill wasn't a spiritual man but right now in the back of his mind he prayed she wasn't really doing this, not now, but that didn't stop him from seeing all the pieces lining up to create an irreparable mess of a situation. "I must have not heard you correctly, can you repeat that?" he asked, knowing full well what she said.

At Laura's end on _Colonial One_ , she spoke at a slow and deliberate pace as she kept her eyes locked on the whiteboard that held the listed survivor count, the people she was responsible for. _"I want you to arrest Captain Cutter and his guards and do it immediately."_ she spelled it out clearly. _"You will then select a command officer such as Colonel Tigh or Captain Kelly to join a Marine strike team and commandeer the dropship Captain Cutter used to come aboard the Galactica. Strike teams from the Pegasus have already captured the dropships of the flight sent to retrieve the first FTL drive and they will use them to assist in then boarding the Spirit of Fire to capture its Bridge as well as all of its navigational data. After we have control of the ship, we will put the majority of the crew back into cryogenic storage, leaving only a skeleton crew with Colonial Officers left in command."_

Bill did his best to hide his emotions from the rest of the crew beneath his stony poker face as he leaned his arm on the top of the station to hide the growing irritation in his eyes. "Why am I only learning of this now?" he said with a barely suppressed growl.

Laura swiveled her chair back toward her desk to focus more on the conversation she wasn't sure Adama was buying in to. _"I needed to keep my cards close to my chest. I couldn't be sure of the extent of the Spirit of Fire's information gathering capabilities. I apologize but it was a necessary precaution."_ Roslin excused, hoping he would see the logic in the steps she had taken.

"I don't think Cutter's men will take to kindly to us holding hostages, particularly their Captain. We don't even know how many troops Spirit has aboard. But I know for a fact they have three specific soldiers that can destroy an entire company of Centurions and not suffer a single casualty."

" _I don't believe that will matter as long as we have their Captain and a half dozen of their men under armed guard."_ Roslin said with an even but serious tone of voice.

"Madam President… Laura, we can't do this." Bill said with weighted words. "What do you think their government will do to you when we get to Earth and find out we stole one of their ships?"

" _I assume I'll be put on trial,"_ Laura admitted, reclining back in her chair, pondering for a brief second what that moment would be like before she straightened herself. _"Maybe we all will,"_ she said. _"But we will be at Earth and our people will be safe. That is what matters, and right now I cannot trust that man to not leave us behind to protect his own people from the cylons before all else. I cannot take that risk, not when we're this close."_ Laura emphasized.

At her end, she paused to brush the hair out of the corner of her face. _"This is a Presidential Order Admiral and I need you to comply with it."_ she stated, switching tactics to try to force Bill into her plan.

Bill weighed his options, measuring them in kind with his own principles and pragmatic view Laura had taken on this. If _Spirit of Fire_ did lead the Fleet to the UNSC, they would be bringing the war with the cylons along with them, no question about that. The Thirteenth Tribe had strong ships and advanced technology, but the Cylons were in equal parts cunning and vicious. Any war between them would be just as bloody as the First Cylon War. Did they the other twelve tribes, have the right to force that upon the Thirteenth? Was the Colonial civilization worth all the lives that would be shed? Bill didn't know, but it wasn't his decision to make.

"No."

Laura blinked as she processed Adama's response. _"Excuse me?"_

Bill spoke louder from the hushed tone he had held for the last few minutes. "I said 'no', it means I refuse."

Laura clutched her fist, not out of frustration but of the tension she was feeling. _"Admiral if you do this you will be committing treason. I am trying to save our people."_ Laura said with equal weight and emphasis.

"And I am trying to keep the only alliance we have against the Cylons alive." Adama replied. "This is a military matter now and I'm exercising my authority on it. I am _not_ going to let this happen." Bill said definitively.

With that, Bill pulled off the headset. "Close the channel." He quietly told his young Communications Officer, who then complied. Straightening himself, Bill then looked back to the Tactical Station where Captain Cutter and Lieutenant Gaeta were still locked in conversation. "Mr. Gaeta." Bill spoke with a raised but unstressed tone to catch the man's attention. "Can I speak with you for a moment?" he requested politely.

Gaeta paused mid-conversation unexpectedly, seemingly excused himself to Captain Cutter and handed Tigh back the headset before coming over while Tigh glanced over curiously, sensing something amiss but instead acted against his instincts and pointed Cutter over to the Helm Control Station to keep Bill's hands free for whatever was going on.

"Yes, Admiral." Gaeta said in an obviously upbeat mood that most of the crew shared when they learned the Spirit of Fire's commanding officer would be aboard.

"I just got off a call with the President. She wants me to arrest Captain Cutter and seize his ship." He said plainly, making Felix Gaeta's expression drop like a sack of flour. Before he could ask a question, Adama continued. "However, I am unconvinced as to the… _validity_ of this order." Bill spoke looking back to the uneasy Dualla, making sure their eyes met so his message would get across. "Dee, did you hear anything _abnormal_ about the President's transmission?" he asked her. "The sound on the wireless, it seemed off, strange, I can't exactly put my finger on it but my gut's telling me something's not right. Is there any way that transmission could have been falsified, some an act of sabotage?" Adama asked, trying to lay out his subtext as subtly as he could for the Petty Officer to pick up.

Dualla's eyes quickly moved around until she focused down on her station. "Um, it would be possible to create a computer modulated voice. Particularly for the cylons, I would guess." Dee said as she manufactured her explanation. "The President has been on the public wireless enough that it could potentially give them enough COM data to work with to create a program to emulate her voice. It seems plausible, Admiral."

Holding his deadpan expression, Adama turned back to Lieutenant Gaeta. "Mr. Gaeta, I need you to jam all of Colonial One's communications and do it quietly."

"Yes, Admiral."

"Also, I need a Raptor prepped with a Marine squad to escort an Engineer over to _Colonial One_ to investigate for potential devices. Get Cally for it and have her meet me in my quarters in an hour. Get to it."

"Yes sir, Admiral." He said both solidly and quietly before returning to his station.

Bill had done all he could at the moment from _Galactica_ , now it was just up to Lee to take care of matters on the _Pegasus_ and pray to the Gods the officers on the _Spirit of Fire_ didn't get jumpy when they start to notice something amiss. 

**APRIL 23 2534 / 1015 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM  
**

Such as it was, the Pelican flight's lengthy time aboard the _Pegasus_ had not gone unnoticed by the recently promoted Lieutenant Commander Isaac Larson who wandered over to the starboard side arc of stations to look out at the bulwark of a starship the _Spirit of Fire_ was cruising alongside. Leaning over Petty Officer Blake's station, his lips slid to the left as he pondered which was difficult for Blake not to take notice of given their proximity.

"Something wrong sir?" Luke asked nonchalantly as he continued performing sensor sweeps on the _Pegasus_ to learn more about the obviously more modern ship. Well, modern when compared to _Galactica_. A tub was still a tub and _Pegasus_ was nevertheless a couple centuries behind any UNSC ship in terms of propulsion and weapons systems.

"Major Heidegger is half an hour overdue of his arrival time." Larson said with a contemplative tone.

"Could be some holdup on the Colonials end." Luke offered with an assuming tone. "If the cargo storage is in the main body of the ship it could take some time moving anything to those stupid hangar pods, and then you got the fact those Colonial yahoos are the ones handling things."

Larson nodded but was still unconvinced. "Serina," he said turning back toward the open floor and the holotable where Serina appeared. "I want you to hail the _Pegasus_ and ask them what's going on. And get me a sit-rep on the Captain's status from the ODSTs aboard _Galactica_."

"Feeling paranoid on your first day in command Mr. Larson?" Serina teased.

"Just cautious," he replied in a manner assuring he wasn't acting just like a stereotypical jumpy junior officer who just got promoted. "What's the status of Red Team?"

"Armory-One doing routine maintenance on their equipment." Serina stated. "Should I tell them not to get too comfortable?"

"Let's not cry havoc just yet, little lady. Any word yet from the ODSTs or _Pegasus_?"

Serina put on a smug smile as she wrapped her holographic arms behind her back. "ODSTs report the all-clear on _Galactica_ , Captain even seems to be having a good time on the old museum piece. As for _Pegasus_ , they said they were having issues getting the drive down the cargo elevators."

"And did you try to raise Major Heidegger or any of the other pilots.?" Larson asked with a raised eyebrow as he paced over to the other side while maintaining eye contact.

"I wasn't. When I asked _Pegasus_ about that, they said the ship's more advanced internal security protocols jam any unauthorized signals to disrupt enemy boarding actions, which isn't that farfetched, we have similar systems in place aboard our own ships as standard operating procedure. If you want, I can access the Pelicans' external cameras to see if anything's off but our view will be limited to the hangar deck."

The Lieutenant Commander shook his head, perhaps he was being paranoid. "No, let's give them a bit more time for now. It won't do anyone good if we can't trust each other over simple issues." 

**APRIL 23 2534 / 1020 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **PEGASUS**_ **BS-62**

 **CIC**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

With a hiss, the wall of glass doors collectively swiveled open as Commander Garner came storming in with a scowl directed at Lee who stood on the opposite side of the Command and Control Station, the underlit table making his brass insignias and buttons shine in the dim room.

"Major Adama, why isn't this ship at Condition One like I ordered?" Garner huffed, appearing as a balloon letting out hot air in that tight uniform of his over his stout body.

Lee held a neutral look on his face as he met Garner's angry eyes. "Because the Admiral just ordered _Pegasus_ to stand down, sir."

"What?" Garner asked incredulously. "Lieutenant Hoshi get me _Galactica_!" he ordered as he paced around to the command phone line.

Lieutenant Hoshi, for his part had a very uneasy look in his eyes as he did as directed. "Connection established."

Garner took up the phone as did Lee on the opposite side. " _Galactica_ , this is _Pegasus_ Actual."

" _This is Galactica Actual."_ Lee heard his father respond. _"Pegasus Actual, you are to stand down immediately and release the captured UNSC pilots."_

A look of confusion began twisting itself on Commander Garner's face. " _Galactica_ Actual, I was given those orders by the President herself. Hasn't she contacted you?"

" _She has and I am countermanding those orders on the basis that this may be in all possibility a plot by the cylons to incite chaos in the Fleet."_ The Admiral replied but seemingly did little to ease Garner's agitation.

"Admiral, that doesn't make sense, I spoke with her _myself_. The transmission came from _Colonial One_!"

" _And I'm telling you, you heard wrong."_ Lee's father spoke solidly with just a hint of intimidation painted in at the end. _"You have your orders Commander, stand down and release those pilots with the FTL Drive I promised them and do so immediately. If you do not comply, Major Adama has my permission to take command of the ship. Do you understand?"_

"But Admiral-"

" _You have your orders Commander."_ Lee's father interrupted. _"Galactica Actual out."_

The line went silent and Commander Garner hang up the phone now wearing a sour look. "Lieutenant Hoshi, get me _Colonial One_." Garner requested to Lee's surprise.

At his station, the Communications Officer shook his head. "I can't sir, they're being jammed."

"By who?" Garner demanded.

"It appears to be _Galactica_ , sir." Hoshi replied.

The sour look soon changed to worry as Garner looked about the room nervously. "We know for a fact that Spirit of Fire's commander is aboard _Galactica_ right now." Garner said with a long anxious breath. "We can only assume she's been captured by Cutter's forces and it's obvious he aims to take control of the rest of the Fleet, first by cutting off all communications with the President." Garner said, making Lee's mouth part open at his Commander's extraordinary leap in judgement.

"Sir, that doesn't make sense. My father would never surrender the _Galactica_ and I can tell you, he would never cooperate willingly for anyone who would try to take it from him." Lee explained with logic in place of Garner's apparent lack thereof. "Why would _Spirit of Fire_ even wait this long? Captain Cutter had his chance to take _Galactica_ over a week ago, but instead he has agreed to an alliance with us. Why would they attack again now?"

"I don't pretend to understand the actions of the enemy." Garner replied stubbornly.

"Enemy? Commander Garner-" Lee tried to interrupt before he was cut off.

"What I do understand, _Major_ , is that there is a rogue warship out there free to go and act as it pleases!" Lee stood with pressed lips as Commander Garner took a breath. While Lee reluctantly agreed on that last point, what Garner was doing was not the way to resolve the problem. "Do you know anything about engines?" He began somewhat confusingly to Lee but let Garner continue. "It's a work of art, each piece and part working together in perfect timing with every other element. Without an engine, a ship is nothing more than a collection of metal. Let me tell you, everyone looks down on snipes like me but there is no one who knows the necessity of order more than one. That's why Admiral Adama put me in command of _Pegasus_. Order is what this ship needs. And that's what this _Fleet_ needs! You have just one random troublesome part causing a problem, the whole engine could fail. And that's what that ship out there will do if we can't reign it in and make sure our people survive long enough to get to Earth!"

"Commander, you're not making any sense! These are the Admiral's orders! You are-"

"Orders? I'm acting on the President's orders!" Garner tried to interrupt.

"-Bound by military law to follow his command or face the consequences!" Lee continued through Garner's outburst.

"I don't want to hear it Major! You are an officer aboard my ship and you will-"

Lee pressed through. "This is a strict breach of conduct for an officer of the Colonial Fleet! Admiral Adama has given-"

"-follow my command as I direct aboard my ship the same as every other officer and deckhand-" Garner continued.

"-you a direct order and by not complying you leave me no other choice but to RELIEVE YOU OF COMMAND!" Lee shouted over Garner's words, finally bringing this confrontation to a head. Lee turned to the deck sergeant standing guard over the CIC. "Sergeant, I have relieved Commander Garner of his duties under Admiral Adama's direct orders. Escort him to the brig."

But it seemed Garner wasn't going down without a fight as he stepped up and puffed out his chest. "Sergeant, I am giving _you_ a direct order: You will take this man into custody and lock him up for insubordination and mutiny." Garner ordered, leaving the Marine Sergeant to look between the two opposing officers, the sweat glistening on his face betraying the stoic look he was wearing as he decided which officer to follow.

"Major, please come with me." He said at last. 

**APRIL 23 2534 / 1025 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **GALACTICA**_ **BS-75**

 **CIC**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 _BE-BEEP BE-BEEP BE-BEEP,_ the DRADIS alarm sounded, turning the mostly normal and even jovial mood in the CIC into one of fear and foreboding. "Admiral, _Pegasus_ is activating weapons! Multiple nuclear activation signatures detected!" Lieutenant Gaeta alerted as Admiral Adama marched down to the Command and Control Station. "Wait, _Pegasus_ is targeting _Spirit of Fire_?"

"Damn it Garner," Adama quietly swore as he soon found himself joined by Captain Cutter and Colonel Tigh.

"Admiral, what's going on?" Cutter asked with a concerned voice that Bill was thankful to hear free of the outrage he had expected.

"The Cylons are trying are trying to get us to shoot each other again." The Admiral said, sticking to his cover story. "Several minutes ago, I received a falsified message from the President calling for your arrest. The cylons were mimicking her voice and if it weren't for Miss Dualla who noticed the subtle difference, everyone would have thought it was a genuine order." Adama explained while glancing back to the busy young woman at her station.

"But that didn't stop Garner from being a paranoid idiot, did it?" Tigh commented bitterly.

Indeed, that bitterness was a shared feeling evident on Captain Cutter's face as he met Bill's eyes. "Why wasn't I informed of this plot sooner, Admiral?" he questioned.

"I didn't want to escalate the situation unnecessarily Captain. I apologize for that, but now it seems that Commander Garner has also received false orders, orders he wrongly believes to be genuine in spite of my efforts to clarify him on the issue. An officer aboard that ship, my son, has informed me that Garner has captured the members of the Pelican Flight sent to retrieve the first of your ship's FTL drives, I gave him a dir-"

"Admiral!" Dee called out, grabbing everyone's attention. " _Pegasus_ is broadcasting a transmission on all channels!" she said, rousing the anger Bill had managed to suppress until now.

"Put it on." Adama replied with a small snarl in his voice.

" _To the Colonial Fleet, this is Commander Garner of the Battlestar Pegasus. I am here to warn you all that Captain Cutter of the Spirit of Fire is making an attempt to overthrow the Colonial government and at this time may have control over the Battlestar Galactica as well. All communications with Colonial One are currently being jammed and I advise all ships initiate FTL jump to emergency rendezvous coordinates. To the Spirit of Fire and Captain Cutter, I have six of your pilots in my custody and firing solutions on Spirit of Fire with every nuke and gun on my ship's port side. Any action made against Pegasus or the ships in this fleet will result in the execution of your men and the immediate engagement of Pegasus. Your ship may be big but I doubt it can withstand a prolonged bombardment from a Mercury-class Battlestar at point-blank range."_ Garner spoke threateningly. _"I am giving you ten minutes to relinquish your control on the Colonial Government and surrender your ship as well as yourself to face justice."_

Colonel Tigh growled out his anger, matched by Bill's furious scowl etched upon his face. "Garner, you Gods damned fool." Tigh cursed.

"Prepare to broadcast a message on all channels!" Adama commanded to Lieutenant Dualla.

She immediately set to work to establish a broadcast signal but as the Admiral waited, she paused strangely, then began again at a more hectic pace but soon stopped again. "Admiral, I'm having some issues, I keep on getting interference on the wireless signal."

"It's the _Pegasus_ sir," Lieutenant Gaeta called out. "Commander Garner is jamming our wireless transmissions, all we have left is the short-range directional laser transmitter to issue communications from." A _beep_ from the DRADIS brought everyone's attention up to the hanging display of monitors as one marker blinked off of the screen followed shortly by another. "Fleet is initiating emergency jump!" Gaeta alerted.

"They'll be completely on their own out there if the cylons show up." The Colonel stated.

"Can you establish a link with my ship?" Cutter directed at Adama and Tigh as more and more ships followed suit.

Tigh had an uneasy look on his face at the prospect of the orders Cutter could potentially issue to _Spirit of Fire_. "I don't know what you can do, your ship so much as _twitches_ wrong and she'll get a full broadside from _Pegasus_." Tigh reasoned out.

"Report: All civilian ships have jumped." Lieutenant Gaeta stated.

"Captain," Adama spoke with a tone of tact. "I would respectfully request that you order your ship not to take any aggressive actions at this time, we can't afford give the cylons what they want." Bill stated with such certainty, he almost believed the lie himself. "I'd ask that you please let me handle this, _Pegasus_ is a Colonial ship and I was the one who put Garner in command, he's my responsibility."

Cutter stood, a foreigner in a foreign place and a Captain with no ship to command. He likely felt such a sense of helplessness as Adama would have were their positions reversed. The man took a breath before issuing his decision. "So be it Admiral, but I still want to be put in contact with my ship, they need to know what's going on."

Adama nodded back at his ally before addressing Ms. Dualla. "Dee get on it,"

"Yes Admiral, bringing the laser transmitter online now." She replied promptly.

"Mr. Gaeta," Adama spoke at a higher tone of authority. "I want every Raptor we have prepped for launch with Marine assault teams as soon as possible and inform Sergeant Hadrian I will be leading this mission personally to remove Garner from command of the _Pegasus_." Bill said, surprising Colonel Tigh along with everyone else with his words. "Colonel Tigh, you have the ship." Said the Old Man as he took off the UNSC headset, then quickly made his way out of the CIC.

Colonel Tigh's head followed his friend as he stormed out unexpectedly with an unsure expression suddenly befalling the Colonel's features as he found himself puzzled on what he should do. "Lieutenant Gaeta, you have the deck." He said with a lowered voice that matched the look on his face, before he too removed his headset and followed Bill out.

This left an equally hesitant Mr. Gaeta who now found himself in command of the venerable battlestar and the dozens of crewmembers now abruptly looking to him for direction. He looked about uneasily as a junior officer approached from his right to man the Tactical Station for him, momentarily shocking him into the reality of the situation. Felix handed off control of the station and then awkwardly made his way down to Command and Control. For a long moment, he looked around at the station and the DRADIS screen, unsure of what to do in the face of his past experiences and seeing Adama and Colonel Tigh act in command time after time.

Then from his right, Captain Cutter held out the Admiral's headset to him, his face one of calm and neutrality in the time of this crisis. He took the offered item and dawned the headset as his feelings of anxiety were assuaged by the presence of at least one seasoned commanding officer being with him.

Gaeta laughed nervously at himself and the emotions he was feeling. "It's funny," he began with a dry mouth. "I've lost count of the number of engagements I've been here for and seen Admiral Adama handle but now that it's me standing here, I don't have a clue what I'm doing." He confessed with an anxious breath to Cutter as their eyes met.

"Well, if it were me," Cutter began with a serious voice as he looked up at the DRADIS screen. "I'd move _Galactica_ up out of the Pegasus' forward firing arcs and put the ventral batteries on standby. If Garner is as incompetent as recent events lead me to believe, we should be ready to take action."

"Captain Cutter," Dualla spoke up. "I've established a link with _Spirit of Fire_ through the hard line when you're ready." She announced.

"Thank you," Cutter said out of habit, forgetting for a split second that she couldn't understand him without a headset, a problem that was beginning to annoy him.

"Okay," Felix said a little more relieved. "Helm, move us vertical to get out of the forward firing arcs of Pegasus' main battery. Weapons, warm up the fire control for batteries four and five." Gaeta ordered before looking back to Cutter. "What else should-um, would you do in my position sir?"

"Don't scramble the fighters yet." Cutter advised. "Place all squadrons on immediate standby and launch them if _Pegasus_ tries to intercept the Admiral's boarding party. Pull back the combat air patrol and have them ready to escort the Raptors. Now if you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to contact my ship." The Captain said as he found and picked up the massive blocky phone that seemed straight out of the twentieth century.

"Yes sir," Gaeta replied, also out of habit. "I want all Viper squadrons in the tubes and ready for immediate launch if the Raptors come under attack. Withdraw the CAP and have them ready to provide escort."

"Spirit, this is the Cutter, authorization code: Zulu-foxtrot-three-five-three-one-alpha."

" _Authorization code confirmed, it's good to hear from you sir."_ He heard Serina reply with thankfully less static versus the Colonials' choppy radio transmissions. _"I'll get you Mr. Larson."_ She said before the line went silent for a second

" _Captain, I'm glad to hear you're fine, do you know what's going on?"_ A slightly relieved Lieutenant Commander answered.

"A cylon trick and Pegasus' commander has fallen right for it." Cutter said as a hint of agitation filled his voice.

" _What are your orders, sir?"_

"Admiral Adama is going to lead a boarding operation to seize the _Pegasus_ at this time and I don't want you to risk the Spirit unless we absolutely have to. Put all personnel on standby. If things go sideways, I want you to hit that thing with a HAVOK and tell Colonel Shaw he has my permission to initiate boarding operations, inform Major Markov and the Spartans that all targets will be considered as hostile."

" _Yes sir,"_ the Lieutenant Commander replied with a voice filled with hesitant acceptance.

"Now if you'll excuse me Isaac, I think I somehow just got put in charge of a battlestar."

\\\\\\\\\\\O

"Bill what the Gods do you think you're doing?" a dismayed Colonel Tigh asked of his old friend as Bill marched down the halls with a pair of Marines in tow.

"I'm wondering if I should have Garner shot on the spot or arrested when I see him." Saul heard Bill say with a deadly serious voice.

"You can't lead the assault teams, you're the blasted Admiral! We need you here!"

Bill looked back over his shoulder at his XO. "With all the paranoia and mistrust circulating around, especially on the _Pegasus_. No one is going to believe a damn thing unless I'm standing on that ship." Bill growled out with an uncharacteristically raised voice.

"Yeah, and what if Garner decides to go out with a fight and you catch a bullet, who the hell is going to lead this fleet then?"

"I don't plan on dying Saul." Bill answered as they rounded a corner.

"No one does but that hasn't stopped it from happening."

Bill broke his thousand-yard stare, locking eyes with his Executive Officer. "Lee's still on _Pegasus_." Bill said, bringing a wave of realization upon Saul. Of course it was about Lee. "I'm not going to lose him like I lost Zak."

"Gods damn it all," Tigh muttered, knowing it was now all but impossible to stop him. It was a trait Bill shared with his son, a trait Saul prayed that damn kid could use to pull something out of his ass in time. For his sake, or for Bill's. Hell, for all their sakes.

 **APRIL 23 2534 / 1030 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **PEGASUS**_ **BS-62**

 **BRIG**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

A harsh shove connected with the back of Lee's shoulder as he was shunted through the door into the brig by one of the two Marines assigned to escort him. Ahead he saw the six UNSC pilots separated into four individual cells, all were bereft of their helmets, displaying their very human faces that reinforced the notion inside Lee that they really were the Thirteenth Tribe and the Fleet's only hope of salvation. Two pairs of the Thirteenth Tribe pilots shared cells while the remaining two had ones all to themselves, one of them undoubtedly being Major Heidegger to keep him from rallying his men toward an escape attempt.

Lee met the eyes of one of the isolated pilots leaning up against the bars of his cell. A rugged man whose large, expressive eyes bled the energy of a senior officer, leading Lee to assume him to be the Major he'd spoken with earlier. To the left, the brig's single Marine guard leaned off the wall.

"One more?" the dark-skinned Marine asked.

"Yeah," replied the one who'd shoved Lee in the back. "Baby Adama here tried to start a mutiny against the Commander."

This elicited a cocked eyebrow from the guard who stepped on over with a slow, swaggering pace and a cocksure grin. "Admiral's son huh? Well guess what, that don't mean shit on _Pegasus_ , daddy's boy. Here we pull our own weight."

"You idiots, don't you realize Garner's going to get us all killed if he starts a fight with them?" Lee asked, his own tensions still very high after his and Garner's war of words as he motioned his chin over at Heidegger.

"That's not for me to decide. See, here on this ship we actually know how to follow orders, it's how we survived out there by ourselves." The Marine sneered and Lee returned it in full.

"Yeah, and how many hundreds of people did you condemn to death following Cain's orders? You still think that was the right thing to do?"

"Like I said, 'orders'."

A shallow sigh sounded behind Lee from the Tauran Marine he'd tried to convince in the CIC. "Tapper, let's just lock him up. Commander needs us on those birds for the op."

'Tapper' said nothing in reply as he turned away. Lee took that second to glance right, spotting the Tauran Marine in his peripheral vision just a couple feet from where he stood before looking back ahead at Heidegger and giving the UNSC Major a meaningful look as Lee squared his jaw in preparation.

"Get back!" the second Marine on Lee's left flank shouted, stepping forward slightly with his rifle raised and within arm's reach of Lee. Heidegger stepped backward to the far wall just three meters from the opening door of his cell.

Then in a flash, Lee delivered his elbow into the nose of the Tauran Marine with enough force to knock him flat on the floor, an act that caught the attention of the other escort, breaking that Marine's aim on Heidegger long enough for Lee to clumsily tackle into him before the Marine could bring his rifle to bear.

The commotion caused the brig's guard to swing himself around to what was happening, an act he didn't realize left himself open until Major Heidegger tackled him to the ground outside the open cell. The Major pressed his advantage, bringing the hard composite of his knee guard hammering up into the Marine's groin, further knocking the wind out of the Colonial long enough for Heidegger to take hold of the Colonial rifle clipped to the Marine's vest and smash the rifle's scope into the man's face with enough force to break both the optic and the Marine's nose. On the opposite side of the brig, Lee hugged himself against the second Marine's back having just placed three good jabs into the side of his ribs. In response, the Marine managed to slam the former CAG against the wall and knocked his padded elbow straight into Lee's head. Staggered from the blow, he felt his grip loosen on the tactical vest. In a quick act of desperation his right hand shot to the Marine's sidearm a moment before he found himself thrown to the cold metal floor in a disoriented state. But now he saw a pistol now lay in the grip of his hand.

Lee's training guided his aim upon the man's leg barely quicker than the Marine could sight his rifle as Lee put a slug into his knee, leaving the Marine to tumble to the floor.

Lastly, the Tauran Marine began to rise, blood streaming from his nose and mouth with vicious anger in his eyes he undoubtedly wished to visit upon Lee but fortunately for the Colonial officer, Major Heidegger came into view bearing the guard's appropriated rifle down on the Marine.

The Marines now pinned down by Heidegger, Lee stood himself, blinking his eyes to shake disorientation. From behind, the UNSC pilots began shouting in their own language, probably about getting them out, to which Heidegger barked a few words out. When Lee didn't respond, he said it again to get Lee's attention before motioning his head back at his pilots with his rifle still trained on the subdued Marines. It didn't take long to open up the cells and relieve the Marines of their weapons after that. The three had been tossed in Heidegger's former cell battered and beaten.

With six of them armed with the rifles and sidearms of their captors, minus one pilot, and the brig secure for now, Lee felt at ease enough to address Major Heidegger and form a plan to somehow take command of a battlestar with only seven men. But hey, the Thirteenth Tribe had done it with just three before, so maybe the odds were on their side.

"Major do you know where they took your helmets?" Lee asked, receiving a look of confusion in response, reminding again that they couldn't understand a word either of them were saying. "Hel-met." Lee said, miming taking one on and off. "Do you know where they took them?"

A tense expression was on Heidegger's face as he shook his head. Well at least they understood some gestures but without any way to actually talk and understand one another, how the hell were they going to pull this off? What would Kara do if it was her in this situation? Lee thought, laughing at himself internally when he thought of who he was turning to for inspiration. If it were Starbuck, she'd probably charge ahead guns blazing and rely on her luck to hold out. No, Lee could never hope to be as crazy and stupid as her, he needed a plan, he needed help.

\\\\\\\\\\\O

"CIC," Lieutenant Hoshi responded, pressing the button to answer the call, he could not have predicted who would have been on the other side.

 _"Hoshi,"_ came a lowered voice. _"It's Major Adama, please you have to listen to me."_ With much surprise, Hoshi heard while he attempted to keep a calm demeanor among the staff of the CIC _. "Lieutenant, I know you're one of the smartest people on this ship and that you know Garner has lost his mind. He committing insubordination against the Admiral and if he starts a shooting war with Spirit of Fire, we're all going to die and no one is getting to Earth. Please, Louis…we need your help."_

Hoshi licked his lips nervously as he glanced around for any eyes directed his way. "Copy that." He said with a calm but lowered voice.

A sigh of relief was heard through his headset. _"Thank you."_ Major Adama replied with a great release of tension. _"I'm with the Thirteenth Tribe pilots in the brig. We're armed, -most of us anyway, but we won't be able to shoot our way to the CIC, not with the ship at full alert. Is there anything you can do at your end?"_

The Lieutenant thought for a second, trying to phrase how he could inform the Major while not drawing attention to himself. "Copy that Lieutenant Minth, I'll redirect the Marines on deck seven, corridor A-six to the boarding operation immediately, as well as the guards stationed at intersections B-seven and B-eight." He said, giving subtle direction to the Major.

 _"Thank you, Louis, we'll be up there soon."_ Hoshi closed the line and was about to contact the Marines Major Adama needed out of the way when the DRADIS went off.

 _BEE-BEEP BEE-BEEP BEE-BEEP_

"DRADIS contacts!" Lieutenant Jex, the tactical officer called out. "Count-eight Raptors leaving _Galactica_ and headed right for us!"

"Any action from _Spirit of Fire_?" Garner asked as he paced by the Command and Control station.

"Negative, no signs of activity."

Upon the screen of Hoshi's station, a message popped open, informing him they were being hailed. "Commander, we're being hailed by the Raptors, its Admiral Adama's personal authentication code."

Garner scoffed. "No doubt they're using Galactica's Raptors the same way we were gonna use their birds, nice try Cutter but you won't fool me as easy as you did Adama." The Commander said, sounding increasingly paranoid much to more than a few officers' worry.

"Launch all squadrons!" Garner ordered with certainty in his voice.

"Sir," Hoshi spoke up, half turned around in his chair to face Garner. "I think maybe we should answer the hail, sir. What if it is the cylons and-"

"No!" Garner cut him off. "I'm done with talking. Launch all squadrons! I want a five-to-six ratio of Raptors prepped for boarding operations, we're retaking the _Galactica_! All remaining Raptors will be configured for full nuclear payload. Frak capturing _Spirit of Fire_ , we'll pull the navigational data from the wreckage if we have to!" It was an insane order and everyone knew it but with the loss of so many experienced officers, none of them had the nerve to stand up as Major Adama had.

Lieutenant Jex, who'd been present for when Admiral Cain executed Commander Belzen for refusing to enact her orders, he with what Hoshi assumed to be great reluctance, pressed the transmitter button on his station. "All Vipers launch. Repeat: all Vipers launch. Deck crews, prepare reserve Raptor squadron for full nuclear payload. All non-essential Marine personnel, report to the hangar decks."

Well, Hoshi reasoned to himself with black humor, at least it'd be easier to get those Marines out of the Major's way now, Hoshi just prayed he got here quick.

 **APRIL 23 2534 / 1041 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **GALACTICA**_ **BS-75**

 **CIC**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"DRADIS contacts!" Gaeta's replacement officer called out from the Tactical Station. " _Pegasus_ is deploying its Vipers." Cutter clenched his jaw, hearing this as he leaned with his arms braced over the Command station map and an overlay of the Pegasus' blueprints. The situation had officially gone from bad to worse.

"Sir?" Lieutenant Gaeta asked as he stood on the station's opposite side, his hand clenched around the hardline phone.

"Launch all fighters." Cutter ordered with great reservation.

The phone practically jumped to the side of the Lieutenant's head. "Launch alert Vipers, set Condition One throughout the ship. Repeat: set Condition One."

"What the Gods is going on?" a familiar brusque voice cut in as Colonel Tigh reentered the CIC.

"Sir," Gaeta replied with a measure of relief but not as much as Cutter would have thought. " _Pegasus_ just launched her whole Viper wing and they're moving to intercept our Raptors." Came the Lieutenant's explanation as Cutter handed off the spare headset to the Colonel.

"And what the Gods were you just doing, issuing orders on this ship?" Tigh questioned, looking at Captain Cutter.

Cutter's reply was succinct in attempt to keep focus on the real threat. "You left a junior officer in charge and he looked to me, simple as that."

"We'll talk about it later." Tigh replied, seeing his point but clearly not looking forward to that conversation, if it even happened. "Frak, this is bad," he added, looking up at the DRADIS screen. "We need a game plan."

Cutter looked up from the blueprints with a knowing, heavy look on his face. "I got one, but you won't like it."

"I already don't like it, so just tell me already." Colonel Tigh responded with a resigned acceptance as he moved to stand beside the UNSC Captain.

"I've been looking over these plans of the _Pegasus_ , I noticed the CIC isn't in the bow section, its stuck here in the middle where there's a lot less mass between it and the outer hull."

"All Mercury classes are like that, I always thought it was a dumb idea to put it there but what's your point? We can't seriously be considering firing on _Pegasus_."

"We're running out of options, Colonel." Cutter replied with equal resignation. " _Galactica_ will cut her engines and we let _Pegasus_ pass underneath. While we're in its blind spot, we concentrate all fire with the ventral batteries right here." Cutter said, jamming his finger down on the blueprints right over the CIC.

Saul shook his head. "Even with all eight turrets, there's no way we could bore a hole through to the bridge, the superstructure's too damn strong."

"We don't have to, we just have to knock Garner off balance long enough for Spirit to hopefully get away and come back with her MAC charged. He'll be at a significant range disadvantage so he should stand down. Maybe it'll even give the Admiral the opportunity he needs to get aboard."

"Hope, should and maybe aren't exactly comforting words when it comes to strategy. Garner could still jump _Pegasus_ back to the Fleet if he thinks he's gonna lose. You'd still be stuck out here and _Galactica_ wouldn't have a snowball's chance of taking on _Pegasus_ by herself." Tigh reasoned, pointing out the many flaws in Cutter's plan.

"Never said it was the best plan but it might be the only one we got that remotely guarantees _Pegasus_ might survive this."

"Gods help us." Tigh prayed, with no better ideas himself. "Helm, standby to cut engines and engage reverse thrusters."

 **APRIL 23 2534 / 1043 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **PEGASUS**_ **BS-62**

 **DECK 17 / CORRIDOR A-10**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

Lee waited in near motionlessness, closing his eyes to concentrate on listening for anyone coming around the corner. Hearing nothing but the sound of his own breath and the breathing of the UNSC airmen beside him, Lee tentatively peeked around the corner to the hallway running adjacent to the CIC. Garner had doubled-up the guard, two sets of Marines now stood against opposite walls from one another halfway down the corridor where the CIC's single entrance was. And with about twenty meters of bare metal walls between them and Lee's position, this wasn't going to be pretty if his group got bogged down in a firefight. But with no other access to the CIC, and as much as Lee didn't like the idea of killing his own, he had to make the assumption that the Marines' loyalties laid with Garner, or more accurately to _Pegasus_.

Lee turned back to Heidegger beside him, pointing to his eyes and then holding four fingers up followed with the sign for 'infantry', motioning an invisible rifle in his hands to make sure the message got across. Heidegger nodded and turned right to his men passing on the information with hushed tones in his foreign language, each man nodding as they received specific instructions from their commander. When Heidegger was done, he put a hand to Lee's shoulder and motioned his rifle, asking to swap places, having the more accurate weapon over the pistol in Lee's hands and so he let him take the lead. The other airmen readied themselves.

Heidegger spoke a single unrecognizable word that Lee guessed was analogous to 'go' as Heidegger turned the corner with his colonial rifle shouldered. Another pilot with a rifle threw himself into a prone position in the middle of the intersection while two others dashed ahead to the other side, taking up positions opposite Lee and Major Heidegger. One remaining pilot along with the single unarmed airman covered their rear from possible Marine reinforcements. Lee himself took a knee, edging around Heidegger and taking aim at the Marine on the right side of the corridor nearest to him. He wished there was another way, but he was out of options and time as well now that Garner had launched the alert Vipers for whatever senseless reason. Lee squeezed the trigger and missed, shattering a pane of glass. He corrected and then shot again, catching the unsuspecting guard in his side. Two more went down just as fast, not expecting to come under fire, certainly not right next to the CIC of all places. The last Marine got several rifle rounds off before a barrage of fire brought him tumbling down dead before he hit the floor. A cry of pain sounded from the prone pilot in the center of the hall, his leg leaking a steady trickle of crimson from the back of a torn legging where a lucky bullet from the Marine had caught him. Heidegger barked an order out at the two pilots guarding their rear to grab the wounded man before advancing quickly with Lee following immediately behind with two of the other airmen.

Heidegger shot out the remaining glass panes, triggering a panicked shout of a female officer from within. The Major turned the corner into the CIC first with Lee coming in half a second after with his pistol ready. In the dimly lit room the command officers were scattered about, either crouching in fear or stood stock-still as mannequins until the two Majors set eyes on Commander Garner, his back pressed up against the Command Station and looking back with a fusion of fear and incredulity upon seeing who was storming his CIC. Heidegger's face twisted into a scowl as the clomp of boots came in behind from the other airmen and Heidegger barked another order for the two to secure the room.

"Commander Garner," Lee spoke with agitation and yet a light air of oncoming satisfaction. "You are relieved of command." He finished, then giving Major Heidegger a signaling glance. Before Garner could question what this meant, Major Heidegger smashed the butt of his rifle dead on the bridge of Garner's nose with a loud, wet crack causing the portly man to topple backward onto the table unconscious.

"Any objections?" Lee asked, lowering his pistol. In contrary to his expectations, it was not a lasting silence until someone spoke up, that someone being Lieutenant Jex.

"What are your orders Major?"

"Recall the Vipers and take the ship off alert and whatever other orders Garner made. Mr. Hoshi, prepare a transmission."

\\\\\\\\\\\O

 _"To all Colonial and UNSC ships, this is Major Adama. Commander Garner has been arrested and I have taken command of Pegasus."_ Lee's voice transmitted from _Pegasus_ heard by all including every single Viper and Raptor in the air, each one containing some very relieved servicemen and women who had been having flashbacks to the first time _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_ had nearly slugged it out.

"Yeah Lee! Woohoo!" Starbuck celebrated in her cockpit, pumping her gloved fist with a happy smile while Lee kept talking.

 _"All Vipers are to return to Pegasus immediately and all personnel are to stand down as of this moment."_ Lee commanded, his first order as a ship's commander and a weighty one at that.

Within the cabin of Admiral Adama's Raptor, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief, hearing Lee's voice. "That's it!" Helo exclaimed in the pilot's seat next to the Admiral. "The Pegasus' Vipers, they're pulling back!"

"Good job, Lee." He spoke softly to himself where he was seated. "Helo. Order the strike force to advance, we're still hauling Garner's ass back for trial."

"You got it, Admiral." Helo confirmed before switching over to the wireless. "All STRIKE Elements, this is STRIKE Leader, we are continuing the operation. Stick to your designated instructions." Not long afterward, the _Galactica_ strike force was cruising ahead all the while the Pegasus' squadrons began touching down in the four landing bays much to everyone's relief. Bill heard Saul's voice speak out over the wireless, calling back all Viper squadrons save for one to provide escort for Bill's Raptor strike force.

A beep from the DRADIS brought a curious glance upon Helo's face, highlighted by the internally lit helmet. "What the hell?" he asked to no one in particular. "Admiral, I'm detecting multiple contacts deploying from _Spirit of Fire_ , definitely spacecraft. Shark, you getting this, copy? Over." Helo inquired, using Finnegan's callsign.

"I copy. From their DRADIS signature, I'd say without a shadow of a doubt they're launching Pelicans."

"They're gonna board _Pegasus_?" Helo asked looking to the Admiral.

"Nothing we can do about it right now." Bill said, not entirely surprised by the development given the circumstances.

\\\\\\\\\\\O

Ten minutes later within the Pegasus' port flight pod the aircraft elevator was descending before a tense crowd of Colonial Marines and deck personnel, including the recently returned pilots. On the elevator sat a Raptor, it's engines emitting a steadily fading whine as they powered down. But it was what else was on the elevator that got everyone's attention. Practically all of them had seen the images taken from aboard the _Galactica_ but none of those did the terrifying justice of actually seeing Spirit of Fire's towering Spartans in person. In each of their hands was held a weapon of unsettling capability. On the left, one bared a rotary HMG while the Spartan on the left hefted a four-barreled rocket launcher the assorted Colonials below found particularly terrifying. Between the stood their leader, wielding another shoulder-fired weapon, though smaller and unlike anything the Colonials had seen. It had no true barrel to show, evidence by the glint of the glass aperture at the end of the cylinder inside the weapon's strange open maw.

Many of the Colonial Marines looked to each other for reassurance, consumed with outright fear. Platoons of men, cowed by three soldiers who didn't look the least distressed with being severely outnumbered.

"Firing line!" Lieutenant Minth ordered with a frantic command. Around the deck crews and pilots retreated to the maintenance pits and anywhere else they could find as the Marines formed three ranks of fire twenty meters from the Raptor.

With a resounding _thunk_ , the elevator touched down and the door of the Raptor hissed open. From it, a five-man squad of Colonial Marines disembarked and quickly took up positions beside the Spartans, shortly followed by the one man the Marines of _Pegasus_ last expected to see.

"Marines!" Admiral Adama shouted out. "You have been ordered to stand down by your commanding officer!" again the Marines glanced to one another anxiously but stayed as they were. "You know who these soldiers are and what they can do." Adama spoke again. "If you open fire I will not be able to stop them. This is a direct order: lower your weapons and place them on the ground!"

At the far left of the rear firing line, a Sagittarian Marine lowered her rifle and then unclipped it from her vest, setting it on the ground. Two more near her followed suit, beginning a chain of the other Marines who disarmed themselves until all but Lieutenant Minth stood with his weapons. Faced alone against the Spartans with the Admiral himself and his men at their side, he begrudgingly disarmed himself as well, holding a sour look on his face while he did so.

Down the deck descended the other Raptors of Adama's strike force with the black armored soldiers of the _Spirit of Fire_ teaming around them. Above in the landing bay Adama knew more Pelicans were coming in, deploying the squads of UNSC soldiers and then departing back for the Spirit, an action Adama found inspired a disquieting suspicion in the back of his mind.

"Senior Chief Petty Officer," Adama spoke up at the leader of Red Team, gaining the Spartan's attention. "What orders were you given?"

It took half a second for the Spartan to respond, being unused to joint operations with what was essentially, a separate nation. "We're on a search and rescue operation for Major Heidegger and his men." Jerome answered.

"I contacted my son on the way in. He's with your airmen in the CIC, which is where we're headed."

"Then we'll provide you an escort for you and your men." Jerome stated evenly.

Bill let out a long breath that subtly hinted at his uneasiness at having the Spartans again so close to him after they had stormed his CIC and nearly taken his own life. "This way." Bill said, disregarding his anxieties for the sake of the mission.

\\\\\\\\\\\O

"Friendlies coming in!" Staff Sergeant Hadrian yelled around the corner, followed by Jerome 092 repeating approximately the same words in the Thirteenth Tribe's language.

Another shout was replied in the same tongue and the Spartans eased their stance. "All clear." Jerome confirmed and with that done, the group advanced around the corner and to the CIC.

Jerome and Alice were the first ones in while Douglas covered their rear, ducking their heads with the shattered glass crumbling into even finer fragments beneath their immense weight as they entered. As almost what seemed customary at this point, all the eyes of the CIC staff were drawn to them, including Lee's who almost failed to notice his father's presence initially.

"Dad-Admiral." Lee corrected. "It's good to see you're alright."

"I was about to say the same thing." Lee's father replied, shaking his son's hand with a strong grip as a subtle gesture of how worried he truly was for Lee. Not wanting to stretch this out longer than need be, Bill changed the subject. "So, _Pegasus_ is secure? Where's Garner?"

Glancing back to the far-left corner of the CIC, Lee pointed to two of the UNSC airmen standing there next to a form leaning against the wall Bill realized was the soon to be former 'Commander' Garner, still unconscious and his hands bound by zip ties. "We have him back there. But as for the ship, I was hoping you could tell me. I'm getting reports from engineers all over that UNSC personnel are swarming up and down it, locking down armories and taking Marines into custody. And it's not like I could exactly ask the Major here." Lee said, motioning his hand to Major Heidegger.

"Senior Chief Petty Officer Jerome," Adama said, shifting around to the right to face the Olympian figured soldier. "I'd like an explanation."

"Our mission is to locate Major Heidegger and the crews of the captured Pelicans to extract them to _Spirit of Fire_. All other matters fall under the command of Colonel Shaw." The Spartan answered.

"And who's that?" Lee asked, stepping beside his father with emotions in between distress and irritation.

"That would be me." Called out an oddly accented voice from outside the CIC. A pale-skinned man soon came into sight, slightly taller than Bill and sporting a kind of deep-green greatcoat open at the front of his legs and similar in overall design to Captain Cutter's lightly armored tunic. On his head sat a fabric cap less ornate than Cutter's but marked with a shielded silver eagle grasping a bundle of arrows in its talons. He was flanked by a squad of the black armored soldiers escorting him, they took up guard positions around the entrance while the officer stepped through and halted before Bill and Lee. "Colonel Maxwell Shaw, UNSC Marine Corps." He said in flawed but understandable Caprican, much to the pair's surprise.

"Admiral Bill Adama," Bill said evenly. "This is my son, Major Lee Adama."

"A pleasure to meet you both, I wish it was under different circumstances." The Colonel returned with equal respectfulness.

"You can speak Caprican," Lee commented, a bit surprised given only a little more than a week had passed since first contact.

Colonel Shaw locked his hands behind his back, standing a little more at-ease as he addressed the younger of the two Adamas. "Languages are a kind of hobby for me, I speak several and given our circumstances, I thought it necessary to add one more."

"Then would you care to explain what your men are doing aboard a Colonial ship?" Bill asked with a slight indignant edge to his voice.

"This is the second time inside a month that a Colonial warship has threatened to open fire on the Spirit without provocation. It is my and the Captain's decision that for the time being, all security matters aboard _Pegasus_ will be handled by myself and Major Markov with his unit of ODSTs. All Marines aboard will be restricted to quarters until further notice."

Lee's jaw dropped open, himself feeling incredulous at the Colonel's speech. "You don't have the authority to do that!"

"I don't but that is what's happening. So you best get used to seeing my face around." 

**APRIL 23 2534 / 1245 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **206 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **GALACTICA**_ **BS-75**

 **CONFERENCE ROOM**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

Two hours later, the Fleet was back at its original position once Adama had one of his Raptors fetch the civilian ships. All personnel and planes were back aboard their respective ships save for Colonel Shaw and the soldiers occupying _Pegasus_ revealed to Bill quite unsettlingly as the UNSC Marine Corps Orbital Drop Shock Troopers.

A shrill shriek of metal signaled the arrival of Admiral Adama as the hatch was opened by a Marine escorting him. Within the conference room Captain Cutter and Colonel Tigh stood not far apart as they had been awaiting Bill's arrival.

"Shut the door behind." Adama ordered to the Marine who then followed the Admiral's instructions while Bill again dawned the UNSC headset. The heavy mechanical locks loudly secured, making the following silence all the more prevalent. "Captain," Bill said stepping forward and offering his hand in respect. "I understand you were a great help to Mr. Gaeta in my and the Colonel's absence. You have my thanks and I apologize for putting you in that position."

Cutter accepted Bill's handshake. "No thanks necessary Admiral, I was just doing what I could to assist." He said with a friendly smile that perhaps was a bit forced.

"Gaeta wasn't ready to be put in command, I should have seen that." Saul ashamedly admitted.

"Let's just all agree it was a hectic situation and move on." Bill suggested and hearing no objection in reply. Returning his hand to his side, Bill dawned a more serious expression, his question not an easy one. "Captain, how long do you plan to have your men occupy the _Pegasus_?"

Cutter's face fell neutral and his jaw shifted left to right as something was pondered in his mind. He turned away, pacing slowly on the floor panels and looking to his feet. "This incident may have been the cylon's fault," Cutter began, thankfully buying Bill's ruse to shift blame to the Cylons in order to protect Laura, at least for the time being. "But I think we all know where the heart of the issue lies. Truth is: we don't know jack shit about each other. Yeah, we have each other's history but right now we're cooperating at arm's-length. I place the blame for that with the Spirit's repairs coupled with your government's absurd requests that stoked tensions between us and the Fleet." Cutter then turned about, looking at both Bill and Tigh in their respective positions.

"With the Cylon presence in the area at a minimum due to the lack of a resurrection ship, I suggest we begin a temporary crew exchange. I'm sure Chief Tyrol could use some additional hands and from what I understand, _Pegasus_ is a bit of a problem child who doesn't play well with others. That needs to change if we're to escape the cylons and get to the UNSC. Lieutenant Gaeta was earlier explaining to me your combat air patrols and I had a few ideas on how Spirit could integrate her fighter wing, get your Vipers some local fire support with the Longswords."

Bill said nothing as of yet. It was a good suggestion but he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. "To do this, I want the overall authority to direct the crew exchanges and that means I want access to your personnel files. If I'm going to accept your crew aboard my ship and trust mine aboard yours, I expect the same amount of access you have."

"What about the language problem?" Bill asked, still not committing to anything as of yet.

"I'll have my senior crewmembers get to work on putting together a Caprican language teaching program the moment I get back. Spirit's still got a little over a week until repairs are complete, that should be adequate time to get at least a working base down to expand on."

Cutter took a few steps toward Bill, now just a little over two meters away. "You give me this Admiral and give me your public approval to mine the asteroid belt however I see fit and _Spirit of Fire_ will spend extra time out there in the belt obtaining additional resources. In return I'll use those and all of Spirit of Fire's capability as a support ship to completely re-armor _Galactica_ with full Titanium-A battleplate which I guarantee is a lot stronger than the alloy you're using. Maybe even equip Galactica with some more modern weaponry but I'll have to speak with my Chief Engineer about that. Then while you have my engineers aboard, I'll have them examine your ship for other ways to upgrade her systems. _Pegasus_ too in time if we have the resources, but for now _Galactica_ will have priority."

Colonel Tigh's mouth gaped slightly at Cutter's unexpected offer. A refit _Galactica_?!

"I suppose there is no other way is there?" Bill asked, slightly uneasy about the change to come, like an old sailor in uncharted waters.

"Not if you want to get to the UNSC in one piece." Cutter answered.

"Fine, we'll get you the files and keep the press off your back," Bill answered. "But I also want to know about all the things I know you aren't telling me. I don't like being kept in the dark."

"Why don't we wait a couple days for that," Cutter suggested in reply. "I think it's been a long enough day as it is."

"Agreed," Bill said, knowing his was far from over.

"No argument here." Tigh agreed.

"Captain if you would," Bill began again. "Go with Colonel Tigh back to the CIC for the time being, I have to meet with the President before we deal with Garner."

\\\\\\\\\\\O

Bill entered his quarters, finding Laura sitting in front of his desk waiting. Her head turned his way, meeting his eyes for an awkward second before he shut the door behind and she followed him for the long uncomfortable quiet that permeated the room as he walked over and seated himself behind the desk opposite of her. From his hand, he gently tossed a white disc-like object smaller than a dinner plate in front of her that she had no idea what to do with. Laura watched Bill remove his glasses and fix her with an unsure look upon his face.

"What is this?" Laura asked, flipping the thick disc over on its flat side.

"It's the cylon device that Baltar discovered in Galactica's CIC shortly after the attack. I had one of my people find it aboard _Colonial_ _One_ as evidence the cylons were responsible for today's actions." Adama said.

"Bill, we both know that isn't true." Laura admitted.

"Yeah, it's not. But that's what everyone is going to think when you tell them that." Bill told her. "I'll be straight, what you did was _stupid_ and _reckless_." Bill chastised. "Right now though, I can't afford you being put on trial and having Baltar as the President. And I'm not going to turn this fleet into a military dictatorship either. But do something like this again and I won't be there to shield you next time. Four men are dead because of what happened and there'll be one more before the day is over. That's all on you."

Laura nodded, accepting Bill's words, she wasn't in a position to argue or make deals anymore.

"Who else knows the truth of what happened today." Bill asked.

"No one else." Laura answered truthfully. "The official strategy I came up with in cooperation with the Quorum was a PR campaign to put public pressure on _Spirit of Fire_." Bill hummed in response.

"What else has happened?" she asked a bit timidly, wondering if Cutter had exacted any price for what had happened.

"Marine Shock Troopers from _Spirit of Fire_ under a Colonel Shaw are occupying _Pegasus_ and have taken over security measures aboard, meaning if he wanted to, Cutter could take over the ship at any time." Bill said, now resigned to that fact. "At Captain Cutter's request, I'm giving him the ability to additionally make personnel exchanges between the battlestars and _Spirit of Fire_ as an attempt to build some cultural bridges between us. I don't like it but it's a necessary sacrifice if we're going to live with the Thirteenth Tribe, I just didn't expect it to be this direct or come this soon." Bill took in a pausing breath. "In exchange, he's going to have _Spirit of Fire_ refit _Galactica_ to better deal with the cylons, possibly _Pegasus_ as well."

"If there's anything I can do to help…" Laura began, halted by an icy stare.

"I think you've done enough, Laura." Bill intercepted. "You've let these dogmatic beliefs that it's your sacred duty to protect every person in this fleet cloud your judgement. I don't care about _prophecies_ or the _Gods_ , the Thirteenth Tribe is here now Laura, now! Not in the scrolls, in reality. It's time you realize that and until I think you're able, I'll be handling all relations with _Spirit of Fire_ from here on. We're heading down to the hangar deck." Bill said as he stood himself, placing his glasses back on as he did so. "I think you need to understand the consequences of the actions you made today."

\\\\\\\\\\\O

Several minutes later, Laura and Bill arrived at the hangar deck under Marine escort. It was deserted of the yellow and orange jumpsuited deckhands normally populating the normally raucous lengthy space. It was almost eerie to experience it like this, so void of life. Bill lead her forward to a small crowd of people set before an open Viper launch tube. Five Marines stood with two of the black armored Thirteenth Tribe soldiers in a line apart from Colonel Tigh, Captain Cutter and Staff Sergeant Hadrian who were off to the side together, wearing solemn expressions. Bill lead Laura next to them, Laura now seeing Commander Garner seated on an aluminum folding chair inside the open airlock. His nose appeared to be broken, bent off to one side and a great deal of dried blood covered his mouth and the stained the chest of his uniform. His left eye was shadowed by a deep red and purple bruise running halfway around its rim. Garner didn't cry or snivel one bit while Adama read out his charges.

"Barry Garner, you have been found guilty of the crimes of treason, disobeying orders from a superior officer, attempt to incite war with another nation, gross negligence as well as numerous other criminal acts. For these crimes, I hereby sentence you to death by firing squad. Do you have any last words?"

Three long seconds passed before the former Commander spoke. "I thought I was doing the right thing." Garner said, his voice filled with a solemn acceptance.

"May the Gods have mercy on your soul." Bill said to Garner, the last words he would ever speak to him.

The final courtesy now given, Staff Sergeant Hadrian stepped forward.

"Rifles ready! Present arms!" she shouted marked with the simultaneous shouldering of Colonial and UNSC rifles that brought a sense of dread upon Laura.

"Aim!"

"Fire!"

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know everyone was expecting a huge bloody battle but I want to stick close to the rules of the show and I hope Adama being a clever badass and Lee taking control of Pegasus make up for that. Careful readers will notice in the last chapter I used Spirit of Fire's motto,** _ **"The Outcome Justifies the Deed"**_ **as foreshadowing for Roslin's justification. In the second scene, I switched from third person limited focusing on Adama to an expanded view to include Roslin's perspective on things to present a more even perspective on the conflict so it's less good versus evil and more morals versus pragmatism. I also subtly switched perspectives in the fifth scene where command of Galactica keeps getting handed down the chain of command until Cutter finds himself in the awkward position of being in pseudo-command of the Galactica. I know it might have been hard to catch but it's a damn sight more professional than writing out "_'s POV".**

 **On the tech side, laser transmitters are a thing we're working on right now, so it's reasonable the Colonials and the UNSC would have them due to laser transmissions being incapable of being intercepted indirectly and therefore would be a tactical boon for any spacefaring military.**

 **Other notes: Garner was killed by SEVEN bullets. Can you find the other "7" references? I hide them everywhere in my stories.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Woo, over 400 Follows, thanks everyone for your support, I never thought this story would get this much attention. Now some of you have been asking how relevant the plot of Halo Wars 2 will be to the Guiding Fire and for now I'll just be cherry picking any bits I like, such as characters or little technical details. But as far as the new units being added, you won't be seeing any post-war era UNSC technology like the Jackrabbit, Pelican Gunship, Condor etc any time soon. Isabelle provided Spirit with those designs on the Ark and she will not exist for two decades to come, that however doesn't mean I can't get a little creative. With that, it's time to get to know the crew of Spirit of Fire a little better.**

 **Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire**

 **Episode 3**

 **Rampant: Part 1**

 _ **With**_

 _Gideon Emery as Captain James Cutter_

 _Faye Kingslee as Ellen Anders_

 _Courtenay Taylor as Serina_

 _Willem Dafoe as Major Vladimir Markov_

 _Rob Mayes as Jerome-092_

 _Christopher Eccleston as Lieutenant Colonel Christian McCullen_

 _Zachary Quinto as Petty Officer Jonathan Green_

 _Chiwetel Ejiofor as Lieutenant Commander Isaac Larson_

 _Michael Peña as Petty Officer Lukas Blake_

 _Jay Baruchel as Lieutenant JG Scott Travis_

 _Sam Elliott as Chief Engineer Andrew Prescott_

 _Karl Urban as Major_ _Soren Heidegger_

 _Bruce Willis as Colonel Maxwell Shaw_

 **Introducing**

 _Rinko Kikuchi as Ensign Yumi Abadie_

 _Dominique Tipper as Petty Officer Roselyn Mary_

 _Bae Doo-Na as Ensign Tae-hee Hyun_

 _Joseph Gordon Levitt as Lieutenant Ward 'Warlock' Breckenridge_

 _Alice Braga as 2nd Lieutenant Sophia 'Kick' Nascimento_

 _Nicholas Hoult as_ _Airman First Class Evan 'Chugs' Chugainov_

 _James McAvoy as Senior Airman Hank Donnelly_

 **MAY 1 2534 / 0949 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **214 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 _ **CLOUD 9**_

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **49,549 SURVIVORS**

"Coming to you live from our studio on _Cloud 9_ , it's the Colonial Gang! Humanity's most informative round-table program left in the known universe." Introduced a handsome middle-aged man in a granite-grey suit. As the camera panned out two additional people were revealed, seated to the man's left and right at a wooden half-moon table in front of a large panoramic window in view of the park-like habitat the cruise liner was famous for. "I'm your host, James McManus, formerly of the _Caprica Times_. And with me always are my two colleagues; veteran commentator, Playa Palacios and seasoned journalist…" McManus waved his hand over to the woman in a tan suit before motioning with his opposite hand to his other male peer in a deep blue suit red tie. "And Sekou Hamilton of the _Picon Star Tribune_ and _Aerelon Gazette_ respectively. I hope you are all having a wonderful day here in the fleet today on this special edition broadcast." McManus greeted with a smile as he straightened out a few papers on the table with a couple taps.

Darker-skinned Sekou nodded in agreement. "I'm sure they are James, but I'm not sure we can use that slogan of yours anymore," he said a bit playfully. "We could have some serious competition in the Thirteenth Tribe if recent events indicate anything."

McManus chuckled. "You may be right. We are of course here today on this special edition show, speaking just minutes before the latest upcoming edition of _Around the UNSC_ , where afterword we will provide in-depth discuss of all the newest revelations from the Thirteenth Tribe."

"James, sorry to interrupt," the narrow-faced blonde Playa interjected. "I do believe we got some workers on rotation over from the _Majahual_ this morning, should we catch them up?"

"Right of course," McManus agreed. "For those who didn't catch the two broadcasts yesterday from _Spirit of Fire_ , the Thirteenth Tribe has begun broadcasting an informational series meant to educate the Colonial public on a series of subjects from within the territory of the UNSC, ranging from science and space exploration to arts and history. Titled: _Around the UNSC_ , it is hosted by a crewmember who only identifies herself as Serina, and yesterday she gave us an our first under-the-hood peek at _Spirit of Fire_ and her origins."

"Amazing that a repurposed ship like that could take out two basestars by itself and one of sixty-one years of service at that." Sekou commented.

"Indeed." McManus replied, sounding impressed. "You know, I'd like to see one of the Thirteenth Tribe's battlestars go at it with the cylons, and see what they can really do."

"Does the UNSC even have battlestars James?" Playa asked.

"Well whatever they have, I bet it could clean the floor with the cylons." McManus replied. "Other details include her compliment of Marine ground forces numbering a regiment in size in addition to an air wing boasting dozens of transports, four squadrons of interceptors, bombers and two types of gunships. Not to mention the Spirit's absolutely incredible capability to operate within the atmosphere of a planet. Now that's a sight I'd pay to see. Playa?" McManus ended, prompting a transition to the next topic.

"And another new program you might hear over the airwaves, Spirit of Fire's own radio music channel, Spirit Radio also hosted by the mysterious Serina. Already over three-hundred different songs have been on the air thus far from various existing genres and some completely new to the Colonies such as Flip, Blues and Rap. The Fleet's bourgeoning music community is already abuzz with the sudden surge of new content from our brethren of the Thirteenth Tribe. And despite the language gap, I found many of the songs quite the treat for the ears and I highly encourage our audience to give Spirit Radio a listen, wouldn't you agree Sekou?"

"Very much so Playa." Sekou answered as the camera focused on him. "Now to recap some of the events of the past few days, _Spirit of Fire_ has continued its occupation of the Battlestar _Pegasus_ with a Marine special operations force, the UNSC's Orbital Drop _Shock Troopers_." Sekou emphasized. "This is reportedly at Admiral Adama's personal request in the wake of Commander Garner's execution. After the actions _Pegasus_ took in defiance of Admiral Adama's orders, it seems likely these troops will serve as the muscle to enforce the peace during the crew exchanges beginning today between _Spirit of Fire_ and the Fleet's two battlestars as well as, I speculate, break the insular culture _Pegasus_ is known to possess amongst its crew."

"Quite the development," McManus commented as the video cut to the angle of another camera to include him. "I think it's fair to say the happenings in the Fleet will never quite be the same with the _Spirit of Fire_ around."

"I think that's an attitude many people across the Fleet are feeling," Playa cut in as the video again cut to a wide angle shot to include her. "With two skirmishes with the Thirteenth Tribe narrowly avoided at both times, a sizable portion of the Colonial people are concerned that if another such action were to take place, perhaps that would provoke Captain Cutter into implementing a fleet-wide occupation by UNSC Marines." Playa put forth. "People are also worried about the potential resource drain _Spirit of Fire_ could be on the Fleet in terms of food if their own supplies ever run low."

"I personally don't think that will ever be the case Playa," Sekou commented. "I think we'll surely get to the Thirteenth Tribe long before that with the _Spirit of Fire_ to guide us."

The video feed again switched angles to a center shot of just McManus looking directly into the lens. "And it looks like on that hopeful note, we'll have to pause it right there, as it is now time for the show we've all been waiting for to begin. Once again, stat tuned for our round table discussion at the conclusion of this latest episode of _Around the UNSC_ to here we have to say and what possible implications what we've learned might have on the Fleet and Colonial society at large. See you in an hour folks."

With that the feed cut to black and stayed that way for several seconds until it was without warning replaced with a deep blue banner bearing a white emblem of the UNSC. With the prospect of getting some incredible ratings, the Colonial News Network was of course rerouting Spirit of Fire's broadcast on their own channel at no cost to them.

The emblem faded to that of Spirit of Fire's and then to the ship's uncluttered observation deck where stood a beautiful young woman of fare skin and long brown hair in a stylish outfit unlike anything in the Colonies before the Fall. Gazing outward at the tapestry of stars, she turned toward the camera with a lovely and intelligent smile.

"Hello again everyone, my name is Serina and I'll be taking you on a journey around the UNSC. She began walking to the deck's center to a holographic display table where a blue colored likeness of _Spirit of Fire_ lied upon it. "Yesterday you all got a look at the place we on this ship like to call home. But for today's episode, we'll be going _considerably_ further away." She said, smiling in a mysterious, playful manner into the camera. Serina turned around, facing ahead of the Spirit's bow. "Initiating slipspace jump in three…two…one." Then at once, a shimmering blue and white portal of wispy energy manifested and the ship suddenly shot into, replacing the guzzling display with complete darkness all around. "What we're experiencing right now is Slipstream Space or slipspace, as it is known colloquially." Serina continued, meeting the camera's lens. "Or a very accurate simulation at the least. It's not nearly as fast or accurate as a Colonial FTL drive but it is, from what our personnel aboard are learning, a great deal easier to calculate navigational coordinates for. However, slipspace is not the subject of today's program. We'll get to that some other time." The very human looking Serina said as the _Spirit of Fire_ exited slipspace right in front of a large habitable planet bearing large continents and vast cerulean oceans painted over with random brushstrokes of bright white clouds, and a single silvery moon in orbit behind it.

"Today's subject is that which has been on all of your minds for several months now. The end goal for the Colonial Fleet. This…is Earth,"

 **MAY 1 2534 / 1018 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **214 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **49,553 SURVIVORS**

While Serina's little show went on, _Spirit of Fire_ itself was cruising on up to the tylium refinery ship _Tauranian_ to receive the refined ore she needed to replenish her munition supply. Now in position, the smaller civilian ship sided up to the Spirit's portside amidships where the volatile substance could be safely offloaded on to the UNSC ship. For the bridge crew of the _Tauranian_ , they could without a doubt see the fully repaired portside wing hanging above them and more prominently, the thousands upon thousands of tons of titanium plate strapped together in thick cubes linked to the same manner of docking clamps the Spirit used to secure her five remaining D20 Heron super-heavy-lift dropships under the starboard wing.

Off to the starboard as well, a Colonial Raptor from _Galactica_ was making its approach, being given permission to land in one of the many bays. Through the transparent canopy, Lieutenant Finnegan and Ensign Esrin could be seen in their helmeted flight suits making landing preparations while leaning out in between them from the rear section of the cabin was Felix Gaeta, whose excitement to begin his six-month posting to _Spirit of Fire_ was more than apparent on his grinning face.

Ahead of them a space-suited aircraft director wielding two glowing signal wands directed Finnegan down on to one of the landing pads.

"Easy, easy," Esrin guided.

"Funny, I thought that was your call sign." Finnegan snipped back, not quite liking the side-seat flying.

"What's the matter?" Felix asked the Ensign.

"Their magnetics don't kick in until we're less than a meter above the pad, probably not a problem for their Pelicans and the suspension systems on their landing gear but we're all hard struts with nothing else, so when we hit-" Esrin was then cut off by a dramatic impact of the Raptor against the landing pad like a great hand had swatted down on the colonial craft as if it were a bothersome fly. Gaeta himself would have been knocked from his feet were his hands not braced against the narrow doorframe separating the forward and rear sections of the cabin. The craft now still once more, Esrin groaned. "-we hit hard." She finally finished.

"I'll keep that in mind." Felix replied with deadpan sarcasm before turning about as the landing pad began ascending into the inner hangar deck. Felix's concerning gaze fell back to the older officer seated rearmost in the cabin. "Admiral, are you alright?"

The Old Man himself seemed relatively unfazed but ever since Boomer shot him, Felix along with everyone else worried about the Admiral's wellbeing a little more than before that horrific event. "I've had a lot worse landings than that Mr. Gaeta. Back when I was flying Vipers, Galactica's old LSO would always cuss me out about my landings, I've had worse than that."

"Bet you were real popular with the deckcrew sir." Esrin commented with a lightheartedness in her voice.

"Alright people, here we are," Finnegan spoke up as the inner hatch of the airlock opened, flooding the aircraft elevator shaft with pale fluorescent light. "Welcome aboard the _Spirit of Fire_." Gaeta turned about, seeing the ever upward stretching interior canyon of the dropship hangar deck, while far closer, a small gathering of UNSC deckhands in their orange vested, dark blue coveralls and rounded orange helmets stood on standby next to an aircraft maneuvering cart to clear the pad of the Raptor.

"Hehe, Shark and Easy: Two, Starbuck: Zero." Esrin said with smug satisfaction, holding her fist out for Finnegan to pound in small celebration.

The pressure seal on the Raptor's door released with Esrin's prompting on her control panel and Felix turned about to walk out with the Admiral as the gull-wing door opened. Outside, a small four-man fireteam of UNSC Marines were ready to receive the passengers beside the familiar face of Captain Cutter, Chief Tyrol and another older man Felix did not recognize. Admiral Adama was the first down followed immediately behind by Felix and he was soon joined by Cally, Seelix and Jerwin Brooks out of their coveralls and in more appropriate uniforms for the crew exchange.

The Admiral saluted Cutter with a truer respect Felix hadn't seen the Old Man give other commanding officers in the past, including Admiral Cain the first time she came aboard _Galactica_. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?"

Cutter returned the gesture in kind. "Permission granted Admiral, nice to have you finally aboard _Spirit of Fire_ ," he said with passable Caprican though the Captain spoke his syllables a bit too straightly and had trouble with the R's.

"It's a pleasure to be here." Adama returned, shaking hands briefly.

"Lieutenant Gaeta," Cutter greeted warmly, offering his hand to him which Felix gladly accepted.

"Captain, thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to serve aboard your ship." Felix said, still feeling as if he were walking on clouds.

"I'm happy to have you." Cutter replied. "I'm sure you'll do well here."

Joining the conversation, Admiral Adama offered his two cents. "Gaeta's the best Tactical Officer I've ever had, so you better not lose him." The Old Man said with his very dry humor.

"We'll try not to Admiral. Now if I may present to you, Spirit of Fire's Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Commander Andrew Prescott," With a wave of the arm Cutter introduced the elderly mustachioed gentleman in dark green coveralls. "He'll be coming back aboard with you on your return trip to _Galactica_ to oversee the refit operation but seeing as you wanted to have a chat, there's a few more ideas he wanted me to toss your way while you're over."

"Admiral," Prescott greeted with an even worse accent than the Captain's as the men shook hands. With a polite hum Adama acknowledged his rank that Prescott had horribly minced before the Old Man turned left to the three deckhands from _Galactica_.

"These are specialists Callandra Henderson, Diana Seelix and Jerwin Brooks. Your new transfers from my deck division. They're three of my best, so take care of them." Adama introduced.

"You don't have to worry none about that, Admiral, these three're in some good hands. While I'm off fixin' up your rig," he started, motioning his thumb back over his shoulder. "Major Vallum will be holding down my post here. She's a bit of a hardass but that gal is the last person you have to worry about havin' safety issues with."

Cutter clasped his hands behind his back "Well then, Mr. Prescott, we'll leave them to you and Chief Tyrol to proceed as you wish. Admiral if you're ready, we'll head on up to my quarters to discuss matters on the refit operation. Mr. Gaeta, I apologize I won't be able to walk you to the Bridge myself but the Marines will show you the way and my Lieutenant Commander will be there to get you situated before he has to head off to assume his new post on the _Pegasus_."

Felix nodded in gratitude. "Not a problem at all sir, I'm just grateful to be here." Felix admitted with an awkward, barely suppressed boyish glee.

"We'll catch up later then, Admiral?" Cutter prompted and with that the two departed.

\\\\\\\\\\\O

After getting shown his stateroom in the officer's quarters, something Felix was pleasantly surprised at, it didn't take long at all to reach the Spirit of Fire's Bridge. From Felix's initial impressions, _Spirit of Fire_ was a ship with a far more vertical element than a battlestar, judging by the number of elevators on the ship and the speed they possessed as evidence to that. He could also tell they were magnetically driven versus cable operated and Felix was fairly sure the elevators had their own artificial gravity control given how impeccably smooth the rides were.

A whir of servos and mechanical clicks answered his Marine escort as the two olive armored men lead him to an unassuming door. Stepping through, Felix was surprised he had arrived at the Bridge, his eyes immediately drawn to a hologram of the _Spirit of Fire_ and the _Tauranian_ hovering above a large table with metal sides that reached all the way to the floor. Standing by it was a man of dark skin in his early-to-mid thirties wearing a uniform similar to Cutter's own, minus the cap and a couple gold bars on his shoulder pads. Felix stopped with the Marines who then saluted the man Felix assumed to be the Lieutenant Commander.

"Sir," the lead Marine spoke, his Caprican actually remarkably good apart from trouble with the R's again. "We got our first Colonial transfer reporting."

The man saluted back with a well-mannered smile similar to Captain Cutter's. "Thank you, gentlemen, I got it from here."

The Marines then departed, prompting Felix to offer the Lieutenant Commander an eager salute of his own. "Sir, Lieutenant Felix Gaeta of the Colonial Fleet reporting for duty from the _Galactica_."

The salute was returned. "At ease and welcome aboard Lieutenant." The Lieutenant Commander welcomed in a calm yet professional tone. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Larson, the Spirit's XO if you haven't guessed that at this point."

"A pleasure to meet you sir." Felix greeted with a handshake.

A half-committed sideways nod preempted Lieutenant Commander Larson's reply. "Well, I won't be around for too long. Before the day is out, I'll be on my way to _Pegasus_ to take over as its Executive Officer. So I best get you acquainted with some of the crew here while I can." The Lieutenant Commander lead Felix forward to the massive window that gave him a worrisome pause interrupted by Larson as he bared right to the arc of stations to the portside of the Bridge. "This is Rosy," he introduced a young woman with dark caramel skin and shortly trimmed curly hair. "Or Petty Officer Second Class Roselyn Mary, if you prefer. She's our lead air operations controller."

She gave Felix a quick glance and a wave coupled with a smile before speaking but not to him. "Copy that, Two-Niner-Five, flight path has been confirmed with the Colonial Fleet CAP, you are clear to leave the launch bay. Have a safe flight." A quick flip of a few switches and the Petty Officer looked back over her shoulder to the Lieutenant Commander. "The Pelican with Professor Anders is en-route for _Cloud 9_ , sir."

"Good to hear." Larson answered before moving on, stepping just a few paces over to a stocky looking man with a complexion slightly darker than Felix's and a well-groomed goatee that wrapped up and around his upper lip. "And this is the man you will be taking over for, Petty Officer First Class Lukas Blake, our Tactical Officer. To your right is Ensign Yumi Abadie, your counterpart on Navigations who you will be working closely with." Larson motioned with his arm to the narrow-eyed woman with black, jaw-length hair who in return, offered Felix a friendly smile before resuming her duties. "And past her is Ensign Tae-hee Hyun, who monitors Engineering." He continued speaking of a similar woman further down with a more rounded chin and a light shade of brown hair tied into a bun at the back of her head.

Felix only got a quick look at the other woman before the enlisted officer he was to replace, swiveled about to face him in his chair, connected to some rail in the floor, moved out of the station's alcove. "So this is the new guy huh?" he said with a neutral tone as he looked Felix up and down before standing.

"Mr. Blake here will also be assuming your post on the _Galactica_." The Lieutenant Commander said with a kind of subtle tone that could be inferred as amusement.

"Well, sir," Blake said, addressing the Lieutenant Commander. "Permission to go pack my things?"

"You are relieved Mr. Larson. Don't forget the switch over to Colonial Fleet time is happening today, your flight that leaves at nineteen-hundred hours is going to depart just a little over three from now."

"You don't have to worry Izzy, I won't miss my plane." Blake then stepped forward with Felix having to make an opening for him to walk between himself and the Lieutenant Commander. Before passing, the enlisted officer set his hand on Felix's shoulder in a semi-friendly gesture, looking Felix in the eyes. "Hey, don't worry about screwing up too bad new guy. Just make sure you don't burn the place down while I'm gone." Blake said, patting Felix's shoulder in a way Felix got the impression he was being deliberately patronizing.

"You are _relieved_ Petty Officer." Larson reminded in a lighthearted manner.

Blake gave a relaxed salute matched with a warm smile in return. "Good luck on _Pegasus_ sir."

"To you too. Dismissed."

Once Blake passed out of earshot, Felix turned his head back to the Lieutenant Commander. "Is he always like that, sir?" Felix asked.

"Don't be too quick to judge Mr. Gaeta, Blake's personality may be an _acquired_ taste but he's never let us down and he won't let _Galactica_ down either."

"It's more how he and Colonel Tigh will get along that worries me." Felix said with an embarrassed, half-mumbled tone on the behalf of Colonel Tigh's many glaring flaws, that in Felix's and many other people's opinions weren't quite befitting of an XO.

"Don't concern yourself with the happenings on _Galactica_ , we're sending over some fine officers and the most experienced Chief Engineer in the entire UNSC Third Fleet." Larson ensured with a comforting smile. "So would you care to take a seat then, Lieutenant Gaeta?"

"What about the rest of the Bridge crew, sir? Aren't you going to introduce me to them?"

"I'll leave it up to you to introduce yourself when your shift is over. The only other person you absolutely should know the name of is Lieutenant James, folks around here call him 'JJ'. He'll be your direct superior when the Captain isn't around. He's sitting at the second station from the right on the Bridge portside. Now then." He prompted, gesturing at the seat.

"Sir," Felix replied in affirmative, sitting himself in the surprisingly comfortable chair and turned it about to face the computer and control panels, caught off guard when the chair automatically scooted him in just far enough that it didn't feel confining.

"We got the language already set up for Caprican but the rest of the controls you'll have to learn yourself. For today, you'll be running some tutorials to get to accommodated to the station and our computer systems. But in your spare time, the Captain wants you to study up on English until you can speak and read it effectively until you can operate your station without the need for translation."

Felix nodded, looking over the station for similarities to his old station back on the Galactica to not much success apart from what seemed to be the UNSC equivalent to a DRADIS screen. "Understood sir, you learned Caprican, it's only fair I learn your language while I'm here."

"And one more thing…" Larson said as he leaned over the back of Felix's chair, fixing him with a close, more serious look in his eyes. "You're going to want to watch Serina's program tonight. If you want to stay aboard, it's a subject you're going to have to get used to."

In response, Felix's brow wrinkled into a look of confusion. "Sir?"

"Just follow your orders Lieutenant and report to Lieutenant James if you have any concerns."

Though none of his curiosity had been sated, Felix went ahead and nodded. "Yes sir." After all, it couldn't be any worse than having a cylon aboard could it?

\\\\\\\\\\\O

"Serina, what's the status of the tylium transfer?" Cutter asked to seemingly no one while he poured a thin stream of brown liquid from a square sided crystal decanter into two stout glasses until they were a third filled.

"Thirty-four percent complete, sir." The voice of a young woman answered from the room's PA speaker.

Sitting in a cushioned chair, one of two placed in a corner of the room next to an adjacent quarter-circle corner table of well-polished dark wood, Bill suppressed his discomfort at the invisible presence of the ship's AI. "I don't know how you can get used to that." He said, still very wary of the idea of any artificial intelligence even after he'd had a week to process that little disclosure Cutter had revealed to him. The fact that the Thirteenth Tribe had been using artificial intelligences for almost five-hundred years and without incident, was to say the least, shocking. Bill was on the verge of being outraged of course but in all honesty he knew there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it and he didn't exactly have the moral high ground considering he had a pregnant cylon defector aboard his own ship.

Cutter took up two glasses from the small counter adjacent to the thin liquor cabinet and walked on back. "Serina looked out for all of us while we were in cryo, I trust her with my life, Admiral." Cutter answered offering Bill one glass before taking a seat opposite him.

For a ship of the Spirit's size, Bill had expected the Captain's quarters to be at least as big as his but was only half the size and rather modestly decorated though Cutter did have quite the impressive display case filled with what appeared to be model ships from Earth's industrial era.

"I still don't think it's a subject you should reveal to the public." Bill said, taking a sip of his drink which he found to be as good if not better than some of the higher-end ambrosia he'd had. "What is this called?" Bill asked curiously as the taste lingered in his throat.

"Bourbon," Cutter answered.

Bill hummed in approval. "It's good, I like the taste." he remarked as he tried another shallow sip and Cutter did as well.

"They're going to find out one way or another Admiral. And I would prefer control the release of information in the way I want rather than to have Serina's existence leak out."

"Still, if you want my opinion, what you suggested to me over the wireless isn't the right way to handle things. That reporter will do everything she can to get under your skin."

Cutter leaned back and crossed his legs. "I value your opinion, but if I go ahead and give her what she wants now, I'll be putting the worst the press has to offer behind me and I won't get hounded nearly as bad."

"It's not the press. It's the public that concerns me." Bill spoke. "People will be outraged that you have what they'll see as a cylon linked directly with every part of your ship, including its weapons systems. Hell, it still makes me uncomfortable." Bill grumbled.

Cutter finished off his drink with one final gulp that produced a satisfactory grimace as the burn slipped down his throat. "Right now there's more reason to it than not to." he responded to make a point he had in mind. "Given what you've told me about the Cylons, they like messing with people's heads, even their own given what they did to that sleeper agent copy of Sharon Valleri that shot you. The UNSC has a lot more knowledge about AI's than your people do, maybe more than the cylons-" Cutter said conjecturally before going on. "-and I think we should leverage that. Play a little psychological warfare of our own. That's one of the reasons I asked Serina to host those broadcast programs. Get her voice out there every day to remind those things that humans and AI can coexist."

Bill finally finished off his own drink with a long, slow sip by the time Cutter finished talking. "You'll be goading the Cylons into an attack by doing so in one way or another."

Cutter shook his head in a slow, uncaring manner. "Let'em come, I say." Cutter stated boldly. "I have yet to dip into my ship's nuclear arsenal and if they want to come at us in force, I'll show them just what one single Shiva missile can do."

"Shiva?" Bill asked as his mouth tried to form the foreign word.

"Named for the Hindu deity who would destroy the world in order for it to be remade." Serina said, making her intangible presence again known and again provoking the agitated discomfort sitting in the back of Bill's mind. Gods, he didn't know if he could ever tolerate it. A Gods-damned sentient machine inside the ship, always watching, always listening, capable of doing pretty much anything it wanted.

Wanting to push it all as far out of his mind as he could, Bill placed his glass on the small table between the two chairs before getting up and walking over to the glass display case of Cutter's model ships. "Did you make these?" he asked as Cutter followed him over.

"Yes, it's a small hobby of mine. I always loved naval military history, though my father did his best to discourage that."

"I have a model of my own that I work on when I can. I'll show it to you next time you're aboard."

Cutter came to a stop and pointed at one of the larger models, a long beast with a wooden deck bearing three large triple-gunned turrets along with several smaller turrets along its sides. "That one is my favorite, USS _New Jersey_ , commissioned and recommissioned a total of four times during her forty-eight years of service back in the twentieth century. Try as they might, the bureaucrats just couldn't put the old girl down. In the end, it was her age that finally saw to the conclusion of her service. But I believe she still survives in permanent dry dock serving as a museum ship."

"Reminds me of another ship I know." Bill said, referring to the _Galactica_. It was a comment Cutter caught on to.

"I can tell you have a close connection with the _Galactica_. Any story behind that?"

Bill walked along the display case, continuing to examine the models, lingering on one with a rather outrageous paint scheme of seemingly random geometric lines covering it. "She was my first deployment. I served as a pilot aboard her during the war."

"I see, so you were there to see the _Galactica_ in her heyday. That makes what I have to tell you all the more difficult then." Cutter said, moving over to his nondescript desk just a few feet away to retrieve a tablet computer sitting over what likely were more transfer papers. "I know it might be hard to hear this, Admiral but as much capability Spirit has compared to your Navy's ships, she won't be able to completely restore _Galactica_ to her pre-war specs." He said regretfully, glancing down at the pad.

Looking back up and meeting the reflection of Bill's eyes in the glass, he went on. "Age is a hard thing to fight and we're just a support ship, not a mobile refit station, though to be honest, I'd give my left arm for one right now." Cutter said with a slight shade of disappointment to his voice.

To his words, Bill turned to him while taking a long breath. "What you're doing for _Galactica_ , Captain, is more than I could ever ask from you considering all that's happened. Giving her one last chance at being a real battlestar again," Bill paused. "That's an act you've earned my respect and gratitude for. So, no matter how things play out in the next few days regarding your AI, you'll have my public support."

"Thank you, Admiral." Cutter answered, looking down at the pad with a smirk. "Maybe I'm just a sucker for tough older gals like ours. They have a kind of character you just can't put your finger on." Cutter said, then handed over the pad.

What was on it was a kind of cannon with a single wide, flat barrel that was almost sword-shaped. "I had my Chief and Serina work over the blueprints of _Galactica_ you had transmitted to us a few days ago. I know you said that if we could equip _Galactica_ with some UNSC weaponry, you'd like to have the same type of deck guns Spirit has fitted and while it would be possible to manufacture and equip _Galactica_ with two full batteries of turrets, there are some shortcomings."

"Like what?"

Cutter stuck his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his desk. "They're a lot more complicated to manufacture and do maintenance on. And it would also require a massive overhaul of your ammunition elevators. To complete each turret even with everyone working overtime would take nearly fourteen days, plus another whole day to install."

"So you want to use these instead?" Bill said, cutting to the chase.

Cutter tapped on the screen, prompting it to begin a slow rotation of the gun's diagram. "Mark twenty-four-eighty-eight Magnetic Acceleration Cannon, the Onager. This is a longer, modified version Serina came up with for increased ship-to-ship capability. These are normally ground based emplacements used to guard high-value installations from dropship to frigate sized threats but to combat Cylon basestars this version will pack a lot more punch."

Bill adjusted his glasses to read the technical specifications more clearly. "I'm listening."

"It fires a fifteen-centimeter solid-core slug at nine kilometers a second which we managed to bump up to twenty with the modifications; that's around the effective velocity of a MAC gun for a frigate but with the slug at a fraction of the weight, we can expect a dramatic decrease in impact force. And we can't be certain of the combat effectiveness against a basestar until we actually take a shot at one."

"In short one is harder to make but we have reliable data on its effectiveness or we try something new that I'm guessing you can make more of in quicker succession. Am I right, Captain?" Bill summarized.

"That's the shape of it." Cutter said to confirm Bill's rough assessment. "Overall, this modified Onager is not as powerful as our deck turrets but it will fire a lot faster and create less of a power drain. There will be one regardless but I'll get to the solution Chief Prescott came up with in a little bit. You go with this and Spirit will have the resources to make just shy of fifty Onagers- forty-six to forty-eight is the current number- and have the capability to complete at least two guns each day. With these we can equip _Galactica_ with roughly thirty turrets more, since it'll also be possible to refit Galactica's existing turrets then you wouldn't have to worry about magazine detonations any longer."

While Cutter seemed to be looking at the glass half-empty in this case, Bill on the other hand felt a lightness in his chest that he hadn't felt since receiving his first command. Nearly fifty high-performance cannons, it was more than he could have ever dreamed of. Regardless of the hazy estimates on the combat effectiveness, this modified gun was a major step up in terms of technology in comparison to Galactica's existing cannons, which would easily be outperformed. To Bill, just at the face value, thirty-plus guns able to independently select targets was the better option than the eight quad-mounted turrets, no matter the minor tradeoff in the cannons' overall power. Not exactly a foregone conclusion but it was a bet Bill was willing to make. "I think these will more than do, Captain. Tell your Chief I accept his proposal. Are there any other provisions that will be necessary?"

"Well, we'll have to replace pretty much all your computers in the CIC with ours to account for the cannons' hardware and the extra calculations involved, particularly power regulation. This is the part where the energy consumption becomes an issue."

Bill wrinkled his brow as he looked up from the tablet. "How bad is it?"

Serina cut in once more. "To put it into perspective, your ship's tylium engine is a hand-crank generator and the Spirit's fusion reactor is a high-performance hydrogen engine. If you want to have yourself a respectable arsenal of MAC turrets, it's a bit of a roadblock that we're going to have to plow on through and forewarning, you're _not_ going to like what we have in mind."

Cutter then took back control of the conversation, standing back up and with a couple prompts displayed Galactica's blueprint. "We're going to have to up power generation by at least forty-four percent if you want to bring _Galactica_ up to the full combat capability Spirit can get you. If we had a stable continuous supply of tylium, this would be a non-issue and _Galactica_ could operate just like she did back during the war. But we don't have that luxury, we're on the run, outgunned and outnumbered." Cutter stated plainly. Harsh words but the look in his eyes showed fully that in spite of this challenge, the man was not in the least undeterred. "In order to get the power _Galactica_ needs, the only way we feasibly have, is to cut in from the outside with our repair drones and completely gut out the primary magazine in the aft section as a step to make enough room to fit two of the portable fusion reactors Spirit is carrying." Now Bill understood why Cutter made the suggestion of refitting Galactica's existing turrets, a proposal he'd found puzzling until now.

"Normally," Cutter continued. "The reactors are used to supply power to groundside firebases but they can power an area as large as a city for as long as a few years. Mr. Prescott assures me that it wouldn't require too much tweaking to hook them up with your ship. And to account for the reactor exhaust, my engineers can repurpose the emergency fire ventilation system in the compartment to vent it into space. It's a drastic measure, I know but it will also cut Galactica's tylium consumption by an estimated fifty-three percent when not inactive combat."

Bill sighed, a bit annoyed but he should have expected Galactica's refit wasn't going to be that easy. "How long do you need?"

"The engineers will have to get to work immediately if you want to be done before the _Majahual_ finishes her mining operation. _Galactica_ also won't be able to use her reserve engines until the work is complete. If there's time, I'd also like to get your starboard flight pod operational again."

"…Do it." Bill decided. "I'll inform my crew of the changes to the refit when I'm back aboard and get my engineers to move as many of our shells into the reserve magazines to make room for the new slugs and have _Pegasus_ take on any spares we can't carry. Call me old-fashioned but I'd like to keep as many of Galactica's existing turrets active as possible."

"I believe that's a point I can respect, Admiral. We'll mount as many of the leftover turrets on the _Pegasus_ as we can then. More firepower never hurts." Cutter replied, nodding a couple times. "So, if you don't mind me changing the subject now, how are your pilots feeling about the joint CAP so far?"

 **MAY 1 2534 / 1045 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **214 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD**

 **JOINT COMBAT AIR PATROL FLIGHT: TWO-ALPHA**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"I'm telling you that THING isn't a fighter!" Starbuck repeated with a laugh in her voice.

" _And I'm telling you the Longsword has been the standard multirole strike fighter for the UNSC going on sixty…"_ Lieutenant Ward Breckenridge, call sign: Warlock began to reply back. _"Scratch that, sixty-FOUR years counting the time we spent in cryo-tubes before running into you."_

"Please, I could probably _park_ my Viper inside that overgrown bus with wings." Kara bit back as they crossed into a more open area of the asteroid field some hundred kilometers from where the _Majahual_ was conducting its mining operation.

" _You're just ticked off that our birds are bigger, badder and better than your little stunt planes and micro-shuttles combined."_ Warlock smugly replied as his Longsword banked around a massive rock as wide as _Spirit of Fire_ was. Starbuck along with Kat were positioned just off his wing in a delta formation, letting the UNSC craft take the lead with its more sophisticated sensor suite not to mention its thicker armor and heavier weaponry. Their mission was the same as before _Spirit of Fire_ volunteered her squadrons to assist; monitor the immediate area around the _Majahual_ for Cylon threats and engage if necessary. Now that the Longswords were in the fight, Kara was more determined now than ever to scrap that bastard Scar who'd racked up several more kills on her pilots since the CAP of the asteroid field began.

"I never said your Executors weren't good, Warlock, just that they aren't fighters." Kara said, using the new Colonial codename for the Longswords, one which the UNSC airmen had taken to with relish.

The pilots on _Galactica_ had decided on 'Executor' on the account for the gun camera footage taken during the engagement with the five cylon basestars. Upon reviewing the footage from each Viper, it showed consistently that when a Longsword scored a kill on an enemy Raider it almost always took just a single round from either set of their heavy weaponry to blow the things into a thousand pieces.

"A _fighter_ doesn't have a crew of _four_ ,Warlock. Two tops." Kara claimed as she scanned the asteroid field over her canopy, an image at the moment, Kat was reflecting in her own Viper.

As the younger Colonial pilot did so, Kat's eyes eventually fell on the Longsword's right wing still adorned with its messy crimson paintjob. "Hey Warlock, what's with that crap all over your wing?"

" _Raider decided to play chicken and lost big time."_

" _Might want to clean that crap off, I know I wouldn't want any of that stuff on my bird. Who the hell knows what kind of freaky shit the cylons do with their own blood but frak if I want to know."_ Kat shrugged in discomfort. Months on and the thought of living biomechanical fighters still grossed the crap out of her.

" _Nah, I think I like the new paintjob, it's sort of like a trophy. Let that ace raider of yours know who it's up against. What did you call it again Starbuck? Two-face or-?"_

"Scar," Kara answered with a bitterness that she repressed. "The bastard toaster has taken out seven of my pilots so far, all nuggets fresh on the stick."

" _Got a taste for new guys, does he? Well, he's not going to have any luck with our squadrons then I don't think…But I have a feeling we're not going to find him in this sector, plus we're about due to radio back anyway. Wait one mike while I check in with the Spirit. See if we can move on."_ Warlock communicated before switching channels. _"Spirit of Fire Air Command and Control, this is Warlock, Joint Combat Air Patrol Flight Two-Alpha. Do you copy? Over."_

A moment later, a woman's rather melodic voice was heard in all three of the craft _. "Control copies Warlock, send traffic. Over."_

" _Two-Alpha reports: no enemy contact at this time. Sector nine is clear, requesting permission to proceed to sector ten for final sweep. Over."_ Warlock reported.

" _Roger that Two-Alpha, you have the green light to advance to sector ten. Flight Two-Bravo will be on standby to begin their patrol momentarily. Break."_ The Controller then paused, peaking Kara's attention along with her eyebrow. _"Be advised Two-Alpha: Flight Four-Delta spotted Cylon Raiders in that area eighteen hours ago, proceed with caution. Over."_

" _Roger your last, Momma Mary, we'll keep our heads on a swivel. Cylons won't catch us with our pants down. Over."_

" _Better not, Warlock."_ Control's reply came back with an edge of humor to it. _"You may proceed to sector ten when ready. Spirit of Fire Air Command and Control: Over and out."_

"Momma Mary?" Kara asked with an incredulousness that was slightly mocking.

" _Little nickname the pilots on the Spirit came up with for one of our main Controllers. She can be a bit of a mother-hen."_ Warlock replied as he began banking right to head on to the next sector.

"Suure." Kara responded in a manner that was vaguely insinuating as she throttled up her Viper to match speed.

" _So, what the frak is a 'Bravo'?"_ Kat then asked which provoked an irritated sigh out of Starbuck.

"Gods damn it Kat. The UNSC uses phonetic code just like we do. _Bravo_ is their phonetic for Beta while our is _just_ Beta." Kara explained with plain aggravation apparent in her voice. "November for Nebula and Oscar for Oracle. They even have a few letters in their alphabet we don't and vice versa like theta and psi. You'd fraking _know this_ if you bothered showing up for the damn briefings on joint CAP procedures instead of trying to figure out where you're gonna get your next score." Kara dug in rather harshly in reference to the discovery of Kat's recent unauthorized use of stims when she was on duty.

 _"Hey, frak you Starbuck!"_ Kat yelled aggressively over the channel. _"You know how fraked up things were before we had Pegasus and I haven't even fraking taken anything since then. You want to make this fraking personal, how about we talk about your dead boyfriend on Caprica huh?"_ Kat dug back " _The one you left behind?"_

 _"Ladies, ladies."_ Warlock interjected before Kara could fire back. _"If you two want to have yourselves a little catfight, there's more than enough room on the Longsword for the both of you."_ Warlock said with an attempted suaveness that came off pervy, though that could very well have been what he'd intended.

Kara shook her head with an amusingly disgusted look on her face, thankful that he'd at least gotten them out of that argument. "Uck, Gods, I bet you're a real hit with the ladies, aren't you?"

 _"How do you think I earned my call sign?"_ He replied, almost proud of it.

Kara rolled her eyes. "Surprised it isn't 'horndog'." She said as the patrol flight corrected their flight path to duck below a drifting asteroid.

" _Trust me, you have no idea."_ A new feminine voice pipped in over the channel.

" _Hey, who's this?"_ Kat asked, still sounding a bit irritated.

" _Second Lieutenant Sophia Nascimento, call sign: 'Kick'. And I have the unfortunate duty of being Warlock's copilot."_ She answered, void of any kind of enthusiasm.

"Mind if I ask where you're from?" Kara asked. "I've been trying to find one of you guys that's from Earth or been to it at least to get to know what it's like."

In quick reaction Warlock let out a hearty laugh. _"Hoo, man Starbuck, then you sure picked a shitty day to go on patrol. Serina's broadcasting a show all about Earth right this second."_

"What! Gods damn it!" Kara cursed while hitting the side of her cockpit with the bottom of her fist, much to Warlock's undoubted enjoyment.

" _Ey, you'll catch it later I bet. After everyone else of course."_ Warlock replied with some remote sympathy.

" _If it makes you feel any better, I am from Earth."_ Kick answered, though sounding disinterested, like she was just contributing out of obligation to Kara's question. _"Rio de Janeiro, it's a city near the equator. Hot and humid, but the food is the best you'll get on the continent. It's a good place to live, good people."_

Kara was beginning to catch on to what was going on with Kick's attitude or lack thereof. "You got a lot of family back there?"

" _The communities we have in Rio are tight."_ Kick responded with a fond reminiscent tone. _"Friends, family, there's not much difference."_

"And you've been stuck out here for four years." Kara added, connecting the dots.

Kick sighed. _"Long enough for all of us to be listed as missing-in-action by the UNSC."_ She half-muttered. _"Long enough for people to have a funeral…move on."_

"Hey, we're not dead yet." Kara stated defiantly. "The Cylons have been hounding us nonstop for months before we ran into you guys and I haven't given up. Your FTL drive glitching out and stranding you out here, there's no way anyone could've seen that coming. It was an accident."

" _Yeah…I guess."_ Kick replied with a noncommittal tone, keeping to the Captain's orders of not saying anything about the Covenant or how they actually got stuck out here to the Colonials.

"You know, I bet your whole neighborhood will throw you a massive party when you get back. It's not every day you get to come back from the dead."

" _Uhg, my mama will probably faint when she sees me."_ Kick replied with a single light laugh.

Feeling that the mood had been lightened a little, Kara decided to ask about something else. "So, being _horndog's_ copilot, I'm guessing, you've gotten the brunt of his come-ons, right?"

" _Hell no,"_ Warlock replied with fearful emphasis Kara found surprising. _"Kick's boyfriend is one of the ODSTs Colonel Shaw sent over to the Pegasus. And let me tell you, those guys are motherfraking psychos. Snake-eaters, all of them. I mean, when you're burning through atmo in a glorified coffin, praying to God the almighty it holds together long enough so you can fight a war on the ground…that doesn't remotely sound sane to me."_

"Well, I bet they're good in the sack, plus they keep creeps like you off." Kara joked to which all Warlock could really do was grin and bear it.

" _Control,"_ Kick spoke up again, this time to communicate back their status. _"This is Patrol Flight Two-Alpha,_ _we are now entering sector ten to commence sweep. Will radio back in thirty mikes. Over."_

" _Control copies Two-Alpha, good hunting out there. Over and out."_

With the subject of deities mentioned, Kat then went ahead and put the awkward foot forward. _"So you guys really don't believe in the Gods?"_

It was a question to which there was no softening the answer and Kara knew it. She still worshipped the Gods but in truth, she couldn't care less what other people did. Her rather harsh upbringing lead to Kara to develop an insular nature where she regarded most people as 'just other assholes', but still human nonetheless. She wasn't a complete sociopath.

" _Sorry but it's nothing but ancient mythology where we come from."_ Warlock hesitantly answered with the brutal but honest truth.

" _What, are you all monotheists or do you have, like a different pantheon?"_ Kat delved in deeper to the topic.

" _Hoo, now that is a huge topic."_ Warlock answered back and leaving a long pause in the middle while he sorted his thoughts out. _"Well to start, we have a lot of religions, I'd never be able to even list them all, let alone the different sects each has. You got religions with one god, lots of gods, or even no gods and it's all just about spirituality. I know you guys aren't big fans of freedom of religion but that's the status quo where we're from, so it's something you're going to have to get used to."_

Starbuck gathered that Warlock was trying to resolve whatever Kat was feeling, maybe she felt insulted or just confused but regardless, that answer Warlock apparently didn't seem good enough for her. _"But the Gods made us on Kobol, taught us how to build our society, everything we know. How can you just turn your back on that?"_

Kara decided to intervene. They didn't need any religious divisions on top of everything else. "We don't know what happened in the past Kat and I doubt any of them know why their ancestors did what they did so just drop it for now."

Kat's sigh could be heard over the radio. _"Fine, whatever."_

Minutes passed after that last exchange, their efforts refocused to the task at hand. Five sets of eyes scrutinized every dirty rock around and the empty space in between in the dim twilight of this system's small and weak star. A sixth set belonging to the Longsword's Navigator instead looked down upon the screen of the craft's sensor readout. Unlike the Colonial Raptors which primarily relied on their DRADIS system for threat detection, which was essentially just their own iteration of microwave radar, the Longsword carried a much more advanced suite of multifrequency radar, UV spectrum lidar, and spectrographic cameras to scan the space around. Between the capabilities of the UNSC's Longswords and the greater load capacity of their Pelicans, Starbuck was wondering how much life the Raptors would have left, seeing how the only advantage they had left was their FTL drive. And even then, it was only a matter of time before the subject would get raised about trying to retrofit either UNSC craft with a Raptor's drive, thereby making them completely obsolete.

" _Hold on, think I got something on lidar, initiating spectrographic scan."_ Warlock's Navigator spoke up, Kara had heard from him a few times during the patrol so far but never bothered to ask his name. _"Two o'clock low. Mark negative five-four degrees off our axis, range is six-zero, spectrograph confirms non-natural metallic alloy and trace tylium signature."_

" _Control, this is Warlock, we have possible ID on a unknown signature, standby for contact report, copy? Over."_

" _Copy your last, Warlock. Standing by to receive. Over."_

" _Positive Contact!"_ the Navigator confirmed much to Kara's eagerness. _"Lidar mapping confirms positive pattern match on a single Cylon Raider. It's on the surface of the asteroid, looks like it was planning to ambush us."_

" _Yeah, well let's go turn the fraking tables on the bastard."_ Kat chimed in.

" _Control, this is Warlock, we have a positive V-ID on a single Cylon Raider, we are moving to engage."_

" _Contact confirmed, you are clear to engage. Reinforcements are inbound, more Executors on the way. ETA: three mikes."_

" _Roger Control."_ Warlock returned, leaving his channel open for the Spirit to monitor the engagement. _"Let's move to engage,"_ Then came his transmission to Starbuck and Kat, sounding quite eager himself after what had been a long, boring patrol thus far. _"You got any issue with that Starbuck?"_

"Negative, let's fry the bastard." she replied with a hungry look in her eyes.

 _"Copy that, you got the point. We'll cover the rear."_ Warlock returned.

The two Mk II Vipers were the first to bank off in the Raider's direction followed a moment after by the Longsword. The three craft accelerated to combat speed, deactivating the safety locks on their weapons systems.

 _"Master arm on, master arm on."_ Kick announced. _"Fangs out, all weapons are hot. Give me a target, Nav."_ she spoke, her dour attitude now replaced with cold professionalism.

" _Going on your HUD now."_

"Has he seen us?" Kara asked over the loud hum of her engines less than a meter behind her seat.

The Longsword's Navigator let out a long audible hum as he tried to determine that. _"Looks like a negative, Starbuck. We're coming in right over his head. He's blind. Over."_

"Copy, let's keep it that way. Warlock, I'll hold course, you break off and use the asteroid field as cover to flank him from the rear. Let's draw this sucker into a fight before he gets wise to us."

 _"Copy that, breaking off. Nav, plot us a course through the field."_ Warlock replied before breaking off through a narrow gap between two thick asteroids the size of large office buildings the black craft almost disappearing into the shadows.

"Kat go with them, we are not letting this ambush become a counter-ambush."

" _Roger that Starbuck."_ Kat replied before following the larger craft.

The minutes that passed felt like seconds as she drew closer to the Raider's position, despite her DRADIS still picking up nothing. Her Viper maneuvered around the various rocks that gave Kara cover as she closed in. At twenty kilometers, she broke cover, a deliberately sloppy maneuver to make her appear to be just another nugget to entice Scar to come out.

"Come on, where are you, you bastard?" she muttered to herself as she scanned the outside periphery of her cockpit for anything tailing her.

A beep from her DRADIS signified that the sighted Raider had taken notice of her and was quickly braking off of its position against the asteroid. "Tally on Bandit!" And just like Starbuck had hoped but not exactly expected, it started coming right at her. "So you got some balls huh?" Kara muttered rhetorically, hoping that maybe, just maybe this was him. "Come on is it you Scar? Did I catch you with your fraking metal pants down this time?"

At under five kilometers, short dashes of blue tracer fire started flying her way, trying to psych her out enough to break off. "Yeah, not gonna happen." She said and opened fire back with a couple two-second bursts.

" _Starbuck, second Raider at your four heading your way. Distance is one-niner, closing in, we're engaging."_ Warlock signaled. _"Kat, break off and engage the first Raider."_

 _"I got'em. Don't worry Starbuck, I got your ass covered."_

"Oh _great,_ fraking perfect…" Kara grumbled to herself at the heroic stance of 'savior' Kat probably saw herself in. _Narcissistic, cocky little bitch._

"Frak!" Starbuck gunned her starboard RCS thrusters to narrowly avoid a lengthier burst.

" _Break off Starbuck!"_ Kat cried out.

"I got him!" Starbuck shouted back.

The distance closing fast, the incoming fire was getting all the more dense and the opportunities to return fire accurately growing ever slimmer. One bolt of cold fire shot past her head just out of arm's length and she knew she couldn't stay there. "Frak!" Starbuck rolled her Viper out of the Raider's path just a second before it shot past. It passed quicker than the blink of an eye but it had been just long enough for Kara to get a look at its face.

"It's not Scar!" Kara called out but by then Kat was already engaged and the sound of her guns drowned out Starbuck's voice. Coming in on the Raider's nine o'clock, it never had a chance to avoid the streams of tracers that raked its side. The engines of the metallic craft ruptured internally and the whole thing was consumed in a bright orange fireball that lingered for half a second before the vacuum extinguished it, revealing nothing but a collection of scrap left.

\\\\\\\\\\\O

Not far away, the other Raider was desperately trying to escape the Longsword closing in behind it like a shark that had just encountered a hungry orca. "He's trying to shake us! I can't get a tone!" Kick shouted in English while the Raider desperately weaved through a belt of smaller asteroids to throw off the Longsword's targeting.

"Plow the road with the cannons then." Ward replied as he tried to keep up with the evasive little Raider. "See how the little fucker likes it when his cover is blowing up around him. On your mark, I'll cut the engines for a strafing run."

"Ready?"

"Ready." Ward confirmed.

"Mark!" She signaled and Ward cut the fusion engine exhaust and maneuvered with the Longsword's RCS thrusters to angle down at thirty degrees so that Kick's crosshair was just ahead of their target. The woman's finger pressed down hard on the trigger, letting loose a five-second burst of the fifty millimeters, followed by a second and a third. Ahead of the Raider's flight path, the rounds from the Longsword's cannons splashed on the surfaces of the primordial space-rocks, blasting debris in such a way that it effectively became a flak screen.

"It's too much for him, he's rabbiting!" Ward observed with a giddy chuckle as the Cylon UCAV peeled off and gunned its engines to their maximum output. "Oh, no you don't." he then said to himself as Ward reengaged primary thrust to pursue.

"Nav, what's his heading?" Kick called back to Senior Airman Hank Donnelly, their Navigator for this sortie.

"There's a large asteroid dead ahead, my guess; that thing is going to get behind it and jump back to base when it's in the clear."

"Kick, can you get tone?" Ward asked with mounting anxiousness. "I don't like that we're leaving the hatchlings alone for this long."

Kick gave a quick shake of her head. "Negative on tone, we're getting some kind of electromagnetic interference now, can't pin it down."

"ECM?" Ward directed back at Donnelly.

"Unknown." Was what the pilot got as a reply.

"Great," Ward cursed under his breath. "Everyone hold on, I'm gonna try something..."

The Raider banked around the moderately sized asteroid not much bigger than a dozen kilometers across, losing the line of sight the red-winged Longsword had on it and it began spinning up its FTL drive. What it did not expect was for Warlock to had broken off his direct pursuit and instead circle around the asteroid at a different angle to come at the Raider side-on, gunning both the engines and the RCS in a dangerous maneuver at that velocity. Dead in her sights, Kick fired off a burst of eight fifty millimeter rounds. Two clipped the Raider's wings in half while a third bored straight through its main fuselage in one side and out the other without even detonating but completely destroying the Raider's cybernetic brain. With no control for the engines, what was left of the cylon dove downward and smashed itself upon a sharp outcropping.

"Tango down! Tango down!" Donnelly confirmed on his instruments.

"Ha-ha, one more tally on the wing." Ward celebrated as he evened out the Longsword and reduced speed. "The Warlock works his magic once again." He boasted cornily, perhaps aware of the cringe he had incited from the rest of the crew with his awful line.

"You know," Kick began, looking over at her smug-faced pilot. "Sometimes I can't tell if you're messing with us or you really are that full of yourself." The only response Kick got was the most self-conscious and punch-worthy shit-eating grin she'd ever seen Ward bear and that was saying something. "Ugh, why did they set me up with you as my pilot?" she then said rhetorically, shaking her head as she looked back to the display on her console, checking their ammunition.

"Maybe 'cause they wanted to match up the best pilot the Air-"

"New contact on our six! Single Cylon Raider! Range is five kilometers and closing!" Donnelly announced with a measure of controlled panic in his voice.

"Shit! Where the fuck did that come from?" Ward swore while jamming the throttle back up. "Get me a visual Chugs, if I can't see him, I can't lose him." Ward spoke to his Systems Operator and ventral gunner, Airman First Class Evan Chugainov who Ward had been calling 'Chugs' since the beginning of the sortie on account he wasn't sure how to actually pronounce the guy's last name.

"Bringing up cam feed! Wha-" Chugainov stopped abruptly. "Crap, it's the Raider Captain Thrace was talking about."

Ward looked up to the camera screens mounted at the outsides of his station which acted like rear-view mirrors, clearly seeing the blackened gash upon the odd face the Cylon UCAV had. "Three kilometers!" Donnelly announced a second prior to a dreadful low flat tone sounded throughout the cabin. "We've been locked, initiating ECM!"

A more rapid and higher pitched beeping soon followed, causing everyone to tense up. "That's a missile!" Ward called out, rolling his Longsword to the right to foul the missile's targeting.

"I got it!" Donnelly replied with a measure of assurance. "Missile diverted." He said and ward watched the thing curve away and detonate.

 _"Warlock? Warlock come in, do you read?"_ Ward heard Starbuck transmit to them.

"Chugs, get on the turret, return fire!" Ward ordered before replying in Caprican. "Copy Starbuck, get your ass over here ASAP, we found your stupid fraking white whale." Ward then began a corkscrew turn in hopes of maybe turning it into a rolling scissors and get behind him or at least get the metal bastard in the sights of the turret.

" _My what?"_ she asked, not understanding the reference.

"Scar, dumbass!" he replied frustrated, now toying with the idea that all this might have been a set up from the start to get the Longsword isolated from the Vipers.

Splashes of blue glimmered in his periphery. "Receiving incoming fire. I think he's aiming for our engines." Kick called out, likely feeling pretty useless at the moment.

"CHUGS!"

"I can't get him in my firing arc, he's stuck on!" the young Australian accented man replied.

" _Frak, we're inbound, ETA: ninety seconds!"_ she replied as a metallic pattering sounded against the hull.

"No damage, ricochet!" Kick reported in Chugainov's stead but for Ward it was far too much. He was NOT going to be killed by some rampant fucking refrigerator. Breaking eye contact momentarily with the rear camera screens, ward keyed a few controls on his console which triggered a low whine gradually begin to rise in the engines.

"Sir?" asked Donnelly.

"I'm going full burn." Ward stated.

"In an asteroid field?!" Chugainov blurted out, flabbergasted at what he'd heard.

Kick looked over to him but paid her no attention and kept his eyes fixed forward. "You sure about this?"

"We are not gonna get shot down by a little UAV and I am _not_ gonna get rescued by any Colonial pilot who thinks she's hotter shit than us." Ward replied, all remnant of his easygoing and narcissistic attitude now completely absent.

"Roger,"

"Keep up with this, motherfucker." Ward said in unheard challenge to the Raider before blasting the fusion engines up to their maximum thrust. In a second, several kilometers were instantly put between the Longsword and the Raider called Scar, who was left behind to watch its target soared away at a speed it didn't have a chance of keeping up with. Ward pulled up on the stick, rolling the craft to narrowly cut between a narrow gap between two closely positioned asteroids. Now in more open space, he began turning it around to come back at the little craft that had the gall to try to shoot them down.

Getting an idea of what Ward had in mind, Kick made some adjustments on her control screen. "Chugainov," Kick said, mispronouncing the name with a short i sound. "Bring the cannon forwards and slave it to my crosshairs."

"Um, copy that." He momentarily hesitated before following through with the order.

"Donny, status update." Ward requested, lining up the red diamond marking the raider with the nose of his craft.

"Target has increased speed and headed right for us." He reported, prompting a hungry smirk on Ward's lips. "I've zeroed the source of the ECM. Range is nine-zero, off our ten o'clock."

"We'll hunt the fridge down after we toast this one." Ward grimly assured.

The Longsword charged head on with Scar, three times the speed it was doing but the organic machine seemed nonetheless undeterred from its course. A solid even tone from the computer denotated that the Longsword had entered effective weapons range. "Kick, fuck his shit!" Ward's copilot let loose with everything she had at her disposal. Two broad streams of orange tracers were cast ahead accompanied by two heavier shots from the twin one-hundred-twenty-millimeters.

Scar made attempts to weave and dodge around to avoid the heavy spray in effort to close the distance and fire directly at the cockpit. When a fifty-millimeter shell sheered the outer edge of its port wing away, the machine's brain decided further engagement was inadvisable and calculated an emergency FTL jump.

In a bright white flash, the Raider disappeared from Kick's HUD, causing her to grit and bear her teeth in frustration. A couple seconds later, she relaxed against her seat now that the threat was gone.

"He jumped." Donnelly reported in a flat, disappointed tone that seemed well aware that everyone else knew it too. "Enemy ECM has ceased transmission, looks like they bugged out too."

" _Warlock, this is Starbuck, I'm getting nothing on DRADIS, did you nail him?"_ The crew heard the Colonial Flight Captain ask.

Ward cleared his throat, preparing to once again start speaking in Caprican. "Negative Starbuck, he jumped. Clipped him but no kill."

They all heard her then give a very unladylike growl. _"Gods damn it! I thought we had him."_

"We'll get another chance, I have a feeling about that. For now, let's RTB, pursuit flight is inbound to do a thorough sweep of the sector and Celtic will want to hear the after-action report on this."

Starbuck sighed. _"Copy that, we're RTB. Forming up on your wing."_

 **Author's Note: Kind of a low-key chapter, I know. Hoped everyone liked the dogfight with Scar and that I got the radio jargon and procedure fairly correct. Expect this episode to be more about exposition, character development and moving the plot forward.  
**

 **So to recap Galactica's current refit plan for those interested, in total she's getting: Full Titanium-A Battleplate, two portable fusion reactors, 30+ modified Onager turrets, an operational starboard flight pod and new computer hardware for the CIC. Queue Centurion screaming internally.**

 **As a short little notice here, I will be taking the next month off of Guiding Fire to work on Second Chances. All the new Warhammer 40K lore coming out is pulling me back over but do not fear, I will return to Guiding Fire in the following month. Thank you all once again for your patience. Leave reviews of what you liked and constructive criticism of what you didn't. So long!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: I've decided to try something different with introducing new actors. Rather than list them up front at the start of each chapter, I'm going to state it within the confines of the story so there might be a little more of a "wow" factor when they appear. Let me know if you like it in the reviews. Also, credit for the initial concept of Michael Bishop goes to the user: Just a Crazy-Man.**

 **Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire**

 **Episode 3**

 **Rampant: Part 2**

 _ **With**_

 _Gideon Emery as Captain James Cutter_

 _Faye Kingslee as Ellen Anders_

 _Courtenay Taylor as Serina_

 _Willem Dafoe as Major Vladimir Markov_

 _Rob Mayes as Jerome-092_

 _Christopher Eccleston as Lieutenant Colonel Christian McCullen_

 _Zachary Quinto as Petty Officer Jonathan Green_

 _Chiwetel Ejiofor as Lieutenant Commander Isaac Larson_

 _Michael Peña as Petty Officer Lukas Blake_

 _Jay Baruchel as Lieutenant JG Scott Travis_

 _Sam Elliott as Chief Engineer Andrew Prescott_

 _Karl Urban as Major_ _Soren Heidegger_

 _Bruce Willis as Colonel Maxwell Shaw_

 _Rinko Kikuchi as Ensign Yumi Abadie_

 _Dominique Tipper as Petty Officer Roselyn Mary_

 _Bae Doo-Na as Ensign Tae-hee Hyun_

 _Joseph Gordon Levitt as Lieutenant Ward 'Warlock' Breckenridge_

 _Alice Braga as Ensign Sophia 'Kick' Nascimento_

 _Nicholas Hoult as Airman First Class Evan 'Chugs' Chugainov_

 _James McAvoy as Senior Airman Hank Donnelly_

 **MAY 1 2534 / 1048 HOURS (UNSC TIME)**

 **215 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **TRAM 04 / INBOUND TO ENGINEERING**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"So Chief, you've been here for what, two weeks now? How's it been living here on the Spirit?" Cally asked with a very upbeat attitude. She and the other deckhand transfers sat across from the Chief and the Spirit's Chief Prescott within the shipboard tram's passenger car as it ferried them toward Engineering after having been shown their quarters and changing out of their tight, rigid uniforms and back into their work coveralls, which felt liberating for Cally.

Galen smiled, the first time in a while since what happened to Boomer. He chuckled, "Well, the food's a lot better." He commented as he searched for more to say. "They have this kind of stew they serve over a biscuit, that's pretty good. Coffee sucks though..."

Galen's explanation left Cally more than dumbfounded as her brow arched. "Chief, what planet are you on?! This is a ship of the Thirteenth Tribe and all you can say is that the food's good?"

"Well, we've been pretty busy getting the FTL drives installed, so I haven't had much time to see the sights here." Galen excused himself, but it still sounded to Cally like he was holding something big back from her. Unfortunately, Cally wasn't able to press further as the tram came to a stop and an artificial voice chimed in

 _"You have arrived at Engineering. Please watch your step upon leaving the tram."_

Chief Prescott pulled himself up by a standing pole followed by Tyrol. "Come'on then. Let's 'git this show on the road."

As a group, they departed the tramcar on to a long terminal platform big enough to fit fifty standing people along with a single long line of benched seats against the far wall.

"So then Chief, how's the FTL integration going then?" Seelix asked. "Last I heard, the ODST's snatched up every drive _Pegasus_ had on her."

Prescott looked back over his shoulder as they passed through a door into a long hallway lit with stark white light as opposed to the cool blue that populated other parts of the ship, giving the deck a much more industrial feel to it. Along the walls were exposed pipping and electrical access tubing and in the place of the smooth floor plating seen elsewhere on the ship, they were walking on rectangularly grilled floor panels that clanked loudly when stepped on. "Yup, Shaw and his boys grabbed up every last one of them like a whole lot a' magpies."

"But I thought you only needed three to jump the Spirit?" Cally questioned.

Prescott nodded. "That's right but Captain wanted all the rest of them to study on account you fellas can do that fancy trick of jumping in-system."

Cally's hands swung out. "And the Old Man is just okay with that?"

Galen took a quick glance back at her. "Didn't sit right with me at first but they are going to fix up _Galactica_ for us on top of giving us the chance to study their tech." Tyrol defended. "In the time I've been here so far, it's given me more than a few ideas I'd like to try out back on _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_. Plus, if you think about it, it's not like we were doing much with the drives anyway besides letting them gather dust."

"So, we'll be helping you with the drive installation?" Brooks said assumingly to which Galen shook his head.

"No, we got the last one installed a few days ago." He said, much to the three's surprise. "Right now we're running the drives through a battery of tests, jump simulations and weeding out bugs in the programming since we had to write up an entirely new FTL OS basically from scratch to work with the ship's existing operating system and computers, but thankfully Serina's dealing with that part." Galen said with a noticeable flinch at the end as he apparently said something he shouldn't have. A subtly warning sidelong glance from Chief Prescott coming shortly thereafter, all but confirming for Cally, her theory that the Chief indeed was hiding something.

Brooks however, was completely oblivious. "Oh, you've met the Spirit's TV lady? She works in IT?"

"...You could say that." the Chief answered.

"Okay, but if you're pretty much done with the drives, then what _will_ we be doing, Chief?" Seelix pipped up from the back.

Galen waited to turn the corner at a Y intersection and step around a UNSC engineer doing maintenance work on a power junction control panel before responding. "That's not up to me, Major Vallum's the one who'll be giving you your marching orders."

"She just got done with a two-hour long EVA inspection on how the engine repairs are holdin' up in engine five. We're gunna try 'n catch her up in DECON before her shift's up an' she's off to the head. Lucky 'fer us, those RAD shielded EVA suits are as a big of a pain in the ass to get off as they are gettin' on." The older Chief Engineer stopped at a pair of elevators on the corner of a T intersection and pressed what looked like an analogue call button for the elevator, something that Brooks took notice of.

"Oh, hey, is that all analogue?"

"Yup," Prescott answered simply before continuing. "These old colony ships had to be as easy to repair and take apart as possible for the colonists. Ya see, when they'd found a colony, normal procedure is to take the whole ship apart and use every nut 'n bolt to build themselves a half-decent settlement."

"Guess that made it easy to retrofit this old girl, right?" Brooks asked to which he received an affirming hum from Prescott.

With a dull and tired _bing-bong_ , the elevator car arrived and the square-grated exterior door slid left into the wall while the interior doors shakily parted. As they entered, Cally noted the X-shaped crossbeams in the place of walls with removable sections of grated panels for ease of maintenance. This place looked more like an industrial plant than the bowels of Galactica's engineering deck did.

The elevator noisily ascended seven decks up from where they got on and Prescott lead them out, immediately rounding the corner with the Colonials in tow down a long, narrow hallway. About fifty meters down it on the right side, a thin line of windows no taller than the length of Cally's hand began and stretched on for a good twenty meters. Prescott turned his head over his left shoulder and thumbed at the right wall. "If any of you want a quick look at one of the fusion reactors, now's 'yer chance to sneak a peek."

Brooks darted past Cally with an eagerness to see the engine the same way if someone had told Cally that someone had a box full of baby bunnies on the other side of the glass. She joined him if only to see what the fuss was about as they continued walking. When she got close she observed the thickness of the glass that was highly likely to be radiation shielded, estimating it was at the very least, twenty centimeters thick. On the other side, Cally could make out a large machine shaped like a cylinder on its side with a series of concentric rings around it intermittently, but that was about all she was able to make out. Maybe Brooks had expected a complex machine straight out of a cinema with a glowing miniature star at the center, but to her, it just looked like a different sort of engine like those she'd seen on a dozen other ships.

"Wow, look at that!" Brooks said to Cally with a tone of amazement, defying her low expectations. "I'd love to get my eyes on the specs for that thing."

Cally cocked an eyebrow at the man. "It just looks like another engine Brooks, I don't see what the big deal is."

Brooks responded with a look of bewildered shock. "That right there, that reactor is what the greatest scientists, physicists, and engineers in all the Colonies have been trying to create for the last hundred years. No reliance on tylium at all, practically making this ship's range unlimited when you add in the Thirteenth Tribe's cryogenic pods." Brooks leaned up from the window. "Um, excuse me, Lieutenant Commander Prescott? After you guys get done with Galactica's refit, are there any plans to start production on fusion reactors for a fleet-wide refit, 'cause that would help us a lot."

Spirit of Fire's Chief Engineer cracked a grin and chuckled to himself. "That depends, you got a few dozen tons of deuterium lying around? Those things don't run on hopes an' fanciful notions, you know."

"Oh, right." Brooks replied with a slight bit of embarrassment. "That makes sense, you guys wouldn't exactly have that on-hand to spare."

"Naw, a mobile refit station maybe, but I've never served on one of those, so I can't say 'fer certain. If a ship ever did need a whole reactor replaced, chances are they got bigger problems on their hands. Captain'll do the best he can 'fer you guys though." Prescott chuckled again. "Hell, you should'a seen the specs I drew up 'fer 'yer Old Man on what we're prob'ly gunna do 'fer 'yer old battlestar. We ain't gunna install a whole a fusion drive system, but it's gunna be pretty darn close."

A few more minutes of walking brought them further aft past the fusion drive to an area of the hallway that judging by the lack of grime, seldom saw any major foot traffic. At the very end, they passed through a door marked with several warning signs Cally found ominous for her lack of understanding what they meant but got the general idea that ludicrously dangerous amounts of radiation were likely involved. The room entered didn't seem much out of the ordinary. It was hexagonal and roughly half the size of the floor in Galactica's CIC. In design, it appeared to be similar to a locker room with two sets of benched seats positioned on the right side of the room where sat in waiting were eight maintenance techs with four aircraft maintenance carts complete with their own hoists and on Cally's immediate right, a set of ten dented, paint-worn, and ancient looking lockers stood stubbornly against the wall. Against the two furthest walls were six heavily marred plexiglass cases that appeared to be empty. She deduced they were likely for EVA suits since Chief Prescott mentioned it earlier but these storage lockers seemed abnormally oversized, looking able to tightly fit three people inside.

On the wall, adjacent to the leftmost set of oversized lockers was a heavily reinforced airlock door with a small alcove adjacent that served as the airlock's control station where another deckhand sat upon an unbacked stool in waiting before his eyes caught Chief Prescott in their periphery, where upon he swiveled about and gave a slow but still respectful salute. "Chief."

"Hey Satzinger," Prescott greeted with a wave. "Take it we haven't missed Val yet? I wanted to introduce her to the new blood we got comin' in."

"She and her team are in the airlock going through the rad scrubbers right now, they'll be out in ninety seconds."

"Good to hear." Prescott answered.

"Excuse me, Chief?" Tyrol asked, nudging the older engineer's shoulder with the back of his hand. "Where are we exactly, I haven't been to this part of the ship yet."

"Yeah, we don't use these places too often. Engine maintenance airlocks, right now we're in the starboard side room but we got another one port. Don't use 'em too often on account the drives are jus' so darn efficient they don't need much apart from the regular maintenance they 'git when they're docked in a port." Prescott pointed ahead at the thick airlock door. "Through there's a series of corridors that lead into each individual thruster 'cept 'fer the emergency engines up top. Gotta go external 'fer those."

Galen blinked in surprise. "But that's got to be a crazy amount of radiation in there."

"We did offline the engine before sendin' anyone in. Now that we're back in the fleet, the Skipper won't need to be performin' any nutty maneuvers, so we're gunna take advantage of that an' check on each of the repairs."

"Still, the rad-count has got to be multiple times over the lethal dose."

Prescott hummed. "Hence the special EVA suits 'yer about to see."

Not long after, two dirty-yellow strobe lights began spinning at the top corners of the heavy door, accompanied by a shrill klaxon that blared a few seconds before the airlock loudly pressurized. Cally was not prepared for what she was about to see as four hulking figures appeared through the doorway, each seven-feet tall, faceless and covered in thick, bulking sets of faded olive-drab armor. They looked in parts like a frightening combination of EOD bomb disposal, deep sea diving, and an EVA suit. In the place of a normal 'bubble' style of EVA helmet was a metal dome that bore a clearer resemblance to an old naval mine with a dozen armored protuberances that guarded what appeared to be camera lenses. For Cally who had just recently had a scare involving one of the UNSC's Spartans, the sight froze her.

The figures lumbered in on heavy legs that loudly echoed against the floor grating and the noise complaining of servos brought Cally's attention to the exoskeletal metal braces predominantly on the arms and legs.

"Hey, there Val." Prescott waved to the lead figure who momentarily stopped to look at him while the other three continued forward to the benches that the deckhands promptly stood up from. "Go ahead an' 'git that mess off ya, I won't be goin' anywhere jus' yet."

Major Vallum then continued, sitting down on the bench while a pair of deckhands went to work, first plugging in a cable attached to a thick military laptop into a socket in the suit's EVA flight pack and tapping a few keys. The suit depressurized with a cat-like hiss and the gaps in the suit's armor widened considerably as whatever internal layer was relaxed. The two techs then reached down under the tall collar, both then looked at each other while one spoke. "Three, two one!" the pair then with great effort lifted the helmet by a couple of small handles on the helmet's lip and hurriedly set it on their nearby cart with a relieved sigh once they had it down. But all Cally could see of the person inside was the top of the Major's head bound in a cap

"So, what's the word Val? Repairs holdin' up?" Prescott asked while one tech unplugged the cable and the other undid whatever fastened the flight pack to the suit before hauling that off as well.

"No signs yet of wear on the exhaust manifold or thruster nozzle in engine five." The Major replied, still buried in the suit. "I still want to keep an occasional eye on them." While she spoke the two techs had disengaged some ten different locking mechanisms on the waist area. "So, I'm guessing you didn't just come down to hear my report personally, sir."

"Brought you down 'yer new deckhands from _Galactica_. Seemed the hospitable thing to do."

Cally heard the woman sigh as the techs activated the cart's build in hoist, maneuvering it over the Major's head and then hooking on a four-point cable harness on the looped latch points on the torso. "You're being too soft again old-timer. Just put 'em to work." She admonished lightly with a kind of familiarity.

The hoist's hydraulic motor hummed to life and began lifting the suit's torso three feet into the air.

\\\\\\\\\\\O

 _ **Introducing**_ _ **Gina Torres as Major Alys Vallum**_

\\\\\\\\\\\O

From there, Major Vallum ducked out of the suit as the techs maneuvered the hoist's arm away, revealing a striking woman whose sweated skin on her face reflected the light like polished bronze. Now free of the undoubtedly restricting upper half of the suit, the Major undid the chinstrap of the communications cap she wore. With a shake of the head her curly hair fell free and she let out a relieved sigh as she ruffled it with the gloved hands of the under suit to let in some air on her scalp.

"Now Val, I don't know how long my stay over on the _Galactica_ 'll be. 'Yer gunna have to hold down the fort an' be the acting Chief Engineer while I'm away. An' no one's gunna give a donkey's ass 'bout what you tell 'em if you don't show some respect in kind, shake some hands."

A hum touched with an undertone of annoyance left Major Vallum's mouth as she pulled the suit's zipper down. "Fine," she seemingly relented. Major Vallum set a neutral stare on Cally as if she were no more than the set of coveralls she wore. "You, come here. Can't exactly stand right now." She said with a downward motion of her eyes at the lower half of the suit.

Cally walked on over to stand in front of Major Vallum, putting on the best smile she could while the Major pulled her torso out of the sweaty under suit. Beneath, she only had a plain white tank top on and a sports bra under that. Following Chief Prescott's words, Cally offered the Major her hand to shake, by then Major Vallum had pulled her left arm free and began to do the same with her right. Cally's smile evaporated when the Major revealed a thin, almost skeletal arm made entirely of metal. As Cally saw the robotic limb reach out for her hand, she immediately withdrew it out of fear. Major Vallum stared at Cally and her frightened face for a moment before things appeared to click in her head and she chuckled with a mockful smirk.

"What's the matter," Vallum said sardonically. "Don't you know we're all half-cylon around here?"

 **MAY 1 2534 / 1657 HOURS (FLEET TIME)**

 **214 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 _ **CLOUD 9**_

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **49,549 SURVIVORS**

\\\\\\\\\\\O

 **Introducing**

 _ **Aaron Eckhart as Master Sergeant Michael Bishop**_

 _ **Tom Hardy as Corporal Jan Frost**_

 _ **John Boyega as Specialist Daniel Hudson**_

\\\\\\\\\\\O

"Pressure is green, I'm going to open up the rear hatch." The Pelican's pilot called back.

"Okay." Anders replied, unlocking the uncomfortable safety harness at long last. She picked up her briefcase sat in the seat next to her and tried to kneel down clumsily in the dress suit Serina _insisted_ she wear to grab the strap of one of the two duffel bags containing her luggage when another of the Pelican's passengers spoke up from the other side of the bay.

"We'll handle those, Professor, it's what we're here for." Spoke Master Sergeant Bishop as he in his tan UNSC Army BDU's slung his rucksack over his shoulders before picking up his MA37. "Frost, Hudson, get the lady's luggage, would you?"

"Yes, Master Sergeant." Came the dual replies from the two other soldiers beside Bishop.

The Caucasian Corporal Frost hauled his up without mush strain while the darker skinned Hudson was caught off-guard by the weight of the other and nearly stumbled over.

"Thank you." Anders said to both of them.

Hudson grunted with the duffel's strap now weighing down on his left shoulder. "Yeah, no problem."

The Pelican's troop bay door parted, opening the compartment to the air of Cloud 9's quite spacious hangar.

"Big place." Frost commented in his subdued London accent as the four exited the rear of the Pelican in an escort formation around Anders.

"This was a Colonial luxury cruise liner," Anders replied, trying to make small talk. "This is probably where all the passengers were brought aboard by shuttles."

"Um…excuse me?" a woman's voice called out to them in Caprican, drawing their attention right to a well-dressed woman in a dark blue suit of Indian descent approaching from an airlock almost sixty feet away.

"Shall we get moving Sergeant?" Anders prompted, not wanting to be rude and forcing the woman to walk all the way over.

Their paths finally collided about halfway between the airlock and the Pelican.

"Hello," Anders greeted in as a friendly a manner as she could muster. "I'm Professor Ellen Anders."

"Tory Foster, I've been asked by the Quorum to provide assistance as your aide." she replied, shaking Anders' hand in greeting with a polite if nervous smile.

"Master Sergeant Michael Bishop, UNSC Army Airborne. I'll be the head of the Professor's protection detail." the senior NCO introduced. "This is Corporal Jan Frost and Specialist Daniel Hudson." Bishop nodded to each paratrooper respectively. Hudson smiled in greeting while Frost's expression was left bored and vacant.

A pregnant pause followed in which neither of the two women were sure how to exactly proceed under the abnormal circumstances. Frost and Hudson shared an unenthused glance to one another, relaying a mutual opinion of how they currently felt about their new posting.

Tory half turned to her right. "Um, here, I'll show you to your office so we can get started." She gestured toward the hangar inner airlock.

"Okay." Anders agreed, nodding.

Tory lead them onward shortly thereafter, passing through into _Cloud 9_ proper and its elegant décor that reminded Anders of her mother's house.

"So, If I may say," Tory said, continuing to make small talk. "Your Caprican is excellent. I can't even hear an accent."

Anders, though not normally, or even remotely for that matter, a sociable person, gave way to partake in the pleasantries with miss Foster. If the Colonial woman really were going to be working for her, Anders couldn't be rude. "Thank you, I'm a linguist by profession so I know more than a few languages and did spend a little time on ancient Greek and couple other dead languages." Anders cringed internally at what she had called the language of a person whose civilization had just suffered the worst holocaust in human history. Thankfully miss Foster didn't say anything in response, outwardly at least.

"I hear your Marine commander, Colonel Shaw, is also a bit of a linguist." Tory commented as they turned the corner into a narrower hallway.

Anders pushed a rogue strand of hair back behind her ear while she formulated a tactful answer. "Colonel Shaw would more likely see it as knowing your enemy. He considers himself what career officers would call a… 'student of war' if that's a term you have in the Colonies."

"We're definitely not strangers to that…" Tory acknowledged with a derisive edge directed inwardly toward her own heritage.

"Sun Tzu, Hannibal, Erwin Rommel," Anders named before giving the context. "Great generals… and Shaw wants to be up there as one of them."

"Fun guy."

Anders sighed. "I'm sure he's having a much better time doing what he's doing on _Pegasus_ more than what I will be here."

Tory head her head toward Anders. "You mean you didn't volunteer to be Spirit of Fire's ambassador to the Colonies?"

Anders kept her eyes toward the floor, dearly wishing she was back in her lab. "I was the most qualified civilian on board for the job, that doesn't mean I'm exactly enthusiastic about this. Or being the first one everyone in the fleet runs to yell at when the Captain does something they don't like."

"Well, you'll have me to help you however I can. I hope that means something." Tory responded the best she could.

"What did you do before this?" Anders asked to which Tory made a short moan of repugnance.

"Nothing much, I can tell you that. But before the attack, I spent five years working as a precinct captain in Delphi for the Federalist Party. Got pretty good at it too."

Anders smiled genuinely this time. "Sounds like your skills would be put to better use campaigning than…" Anders waved her hand in random motions. "Whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing."

Tory then opened a small thin book she had been holding under arm. "Well let's see here. You're running on Colonial time now, so you'll have tonight to get settled into your new office and suite the President has had set up for you…"

Anders sighed in relief. "Good to know I'm not being thrown to the wolves straight off the bat."

"…And first thing tomorrow you'll have your first official meeting with the Quorum of Twelve and later at three pm President Roslin will be stopping by at the embasy for your first meeting with her."

A sarcastic laugh left Anders' mouth, wishing she had bitten her tongue at her prior remark. "Oh, is that all?"

"It is more of an informal meeting for introductions but you can bet more than a few of the Quorum members will be trying to lobby for your support."

Anders laughed sarcastically again. "You mean the Captain's support."

Tory nodded her head to the left in slight agreement. "That's how they will see it. I have some dossiers at your office on the Quorum members that I think you should look over. Know your enemy." Tory remarked with some humor, relating back to Colonel Shaw's outlook to which Anders smiled in agreement.

Entering into Cloud 9's signature atrium, the large dome overhead was already beginning to darken into its evening cycle. Anders saw good many groups of people off to enjoy the nightlife aboard the ship and while she and miss Foster remained relatively unmolested, the sight of the tan armored UNSC paratroopers did peak the interests of more than a few curious eyes.

Entering into the conference center that had become the Quorum's administrative building, it was just a little further past a short walk up a staircase when Tory then sighed as they came to a stop at a nondescript door.

"Well, here it is." She spoke and Anders' eyes looked to beside the door where lay a large bronze plaque with a wooden back frame. Upon it read:

 _EMBASSY OF THE THIRTEENTH TRIBE,_

 _UNIFIED EARTH GOVERNMENT,_

 _AND THE UNITED NATIONS SPACE COMMAND_

 _AMBASSADOR: DOCTOR ELLEN ANDERS_

"Only my mother calls me 'Doctor'." Anders commented to no one in particular before she opened the door.

Walking in, Anders was surprised at how spacious it was. The wide six-sided room shared the Colonials' fondness for hexagon and octagonal design and had already been pre-decorated into the likes of a formal government office complete with a large desk at the back of the room near two barren flagpoles. Along the walls and the four adjacent doorways leading from the main room sat several low bookshelves and frames of likely reproduced Colonial works of art.

"Am I supposed to be an ambassador or a president?" Anders muttered with a sense of being overwhelmed. Compared to the political theater she was entering, being held hostage by zealous alien crusaders looked only slightly less appealing.

"Sweep the room for bugs." Master Sergeant Bishop ordered to his two subordinates who set down Anders' two duffels by the door before Corporal Frost closed and locked it behind them. "Check the vents, take apart any phones, obvious electronics, or anything that could hide a microphone."

"Isn't that a little extreme?" Tory asked.

"Professor's been privy to a lot of classified intel, miss. Colonel Shaw wants to keep it that way."

"And how exactly would a Master Sergeant know about bugging a room?" Anders asked curiously.

"Let's just say I wasn't always with the Army." He answered before picking up a phone and unplugging it from the wall.

"Just don't turn this place into a warzone okay," Tory asked while making a halting gesture with both her hands spread wide. "I spent a lot of time pulling all of this together. I'd prefer if I didn't see any sandbags or machinegun nests when other Quorum members walk in."

Specialist Hudson looked up at them with a good-natured smile. "Don't worry ma'am we're professionals. Wait-oh shit. Frost, did you remember to grab the anti-tank mines?" he said straight-faced.

"Nah, did load up on the razor wire and C-12 though, so no worries." Corporal Frost replied with a knowing smirk.

Knowing at this point she was being fucked with by the paratroopers, Tory seemed to give up and turned back to Anders. "Why don't I take you to dinner so you can get some air. I know a good restaurant in the main atrium, if we hurry, we can get in before the rush hits."

Anders was confused for a moment before she realized. "Right the time change…um, alright, sure." Anders tentatively agreed. "Yeah, I could use some air."

\\\\\\\\\\\O

The restaurant Tory led Anders to was called Elysian and it turned out it was one of the most high-class restaurants on the ship complete with white tablecloths and a decor reminiscent of a Greek acropolis coming together with Art Deco for a surprisingly good result. When the waiter came, she had to keep herself from ordering coffee as she was accustomed to do in the Spirit's mess hall, thankfully Tory was taking the lead.

"A bottle of ambrosia and two glasses please, twenty-three Delphi Vineyard if you have any."

"Yes miss, and do you know what you'll both be having tonight?" he asked.

"I'll have the special, please." Tory requested

The waiter turned back to Anders. "And you miss?"

Anders, unfamiliar with the fine dining experience was unprepared, not even having been given a menu to look at. "Um, just a salad." Anders said, making the safe bet, before then adding, "-and some bread please."

"Yes miss, I'll have that out as soon as I can."

"Thanks." Was given by Tory and the waiter left, leaving the two with other topics to speak of.

A short silence followed as both women tried to find some common ground to speak on and both finding an unequivocal difference in the professions of scientist and politician. As the waiter returned bearing a clear bottle of jade liquid Anders decided that even if it wasn't a topic she was fond of, she should learn what Tory knew of the Quorum while their waiter poured them their glasses and then departed. "So, uh, miss Foster, what can you tell me about the members of the Quorum, you said you had some documents I should read?"

To Anders' question, Tory's shoulders slumped in dramatic fashion and her eyes slowly shut. "Uhg, I forgot them back at the office, I'm sorry. If it's okay," Tory began, half standing from her seat. "Do you mind if I run and get them, it's only five minutes away. I'll be right back."

"Oh, you don't have to." Anders began but Tory quickly cut her off.

"No, it's okay, I'll be right back." She said and then left without further opportunity to hear any objection.

With nothing else to do now other than wait, Anders grabbed the stout sherry glass filled halfway with the odd dark green liqueur. Taking a whiff of it, Anders couldn't differentiate the variety of smells but she could detect a sweetness to it, prompting her to try a small sip. The Ambrosia wasn't quite what she expected, it was sweet, almost like a honey taste but more subtle. A feature it shared with the lightness of the alcohol, though the burn was persistent and strong when she swallowed, holding the honey-nectar flavor in the back of her throat. All in all, not bad, the stuff would probably sell by the case back in the UNSC.

"Doctor Anders, if I'm not mistaken?" the voice of an older man greeted from behind. Turning, she saw a man in a tan suit appearing to be in his late fifties or early sixties with dark hair and well-toned skin.

"Yes?" Anders answered tentatively.

"I saw miss Foster just get up as I was coming in and figured it had to be you. Tom Zarek, I'm the representative from Sagittaron." He greeted proudly and offered his hand to which Anders accepted the gesture. "May I?" he asked, motioning his arm at the chair Tory had vacated.

"I prefer Professor Anders if you don't mind, but go ahead, be my guest." Anders offered.

Zarek smiled. "I would love to Professor, thank you." Zarek returned with some humor as he sat himself. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, Professor Anders, but I must admit, I didn't think it would be so soon. Your Caprican is excellent by the way."

"Thank you. Yes, I only arrived less than an hour ago and already it feels overwhelming." She admitted.

Zarek sighed. "Yes, the realm of politics is… _far_ from a leisurely place, particularly here in the Fleet. A President no one elected and a people trapped in these metal boxes, struggling to find a voice in their officials." Zarek said depressingly, as if stating a well known fact.

Anders smiled to herself as if she had heard a good joke. "And you're just the man to save them, right? The freedom fighter who so selflessly bombed a building. I've heard of you Mr. Zarek." Anders mentioned with an unoffensive tone.

"My reputation is ill-deserved I assure you. Yes, I did commit those crimes, and paid my debt to society for them I might add." Zarek admitted with no hesitance or omission. "But by doing so, I brought the whole public's attention to the Sagittaran workers being treated as second-class citizens, who ultimately received the justice they deserved."

"You do realize the UNSC is fighting an insurrection in our outer colonies." Anders said with a look of skepticism upon her face at Zarek's political courting. "So, sorry if it seems odd to me that you would want at all to be close to a military power like the UNSC."

Zarek's face turned into a look of inward dejection and perhaps a bit of bitterness. "Roslin's administration likes to paint me as some belligerent, power-hungry radical." He stated. "But unlike her, I was freely elected. You can believe what I have to say or not, though I do hope in earnest you do. What I do, my singular purpose in this government is to give the Colonial people the freedom and control over the government that they deserve. Governments exist to serve the people, not the other way around as has become the custom since the end of the last war with the Cylons fifty years ago." He spoke with a genuine force and a genuine charisma behind his voice.

Anders cocked a cautious eyebrow, her view of Mr. Zarek becoming more uncertain. "That still doesn't explain to me why you're here."

Zarek said nothing as he reached into a pocket on the inside of his suit's breast, clutching a handful of something and reached over the table to place whatever he had in the center. When he moved his hand, Anders saw a small number, perhaps eight or ten small electronic devices the size of a thimble with small and simple microphones attached to them.

Looking at Anders in the eye, Zarek continued talking. "Before you arrived, I had some friends of mine search the embassy for any signs of tampering. And as you can see, Professor, my caution was well warranted." Before Anders could raise a question, Zarek carried on. "I'm not asking you to implicitly trust me like Roslin will, and she _will_. But you should heed my advice and don't take anyone's word at face value, Roslin especially. She'll smile and put up the sweet school teacher routine but in truth, she's as ruthless as they come. And if she sees something she can take advantage of, she will take it." Zarek then stood himself, seemingly preparing to leave now that he'd shared what he had to say.

"Keep those as a gift," Zarek said pointing to the electronic bugs. "Present them to your security team so they know what to look out for." And with that Zarek departed. Leaving Anders with even more questions.

 **MAY 1 2534 / 1700 HOURS (FLEET TIME)**

 **215 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **PEGASUS**_ **BS-62**

 **STARBOARD HANGAR DECK**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

In the long corridor of the hangar deck between sections H-01 and H-03 the Colonial Marines of _Pegasus_ had been told to assemble by the ODST's under the orders of Colonel Shaw. There they waited opposite of a platoon-sized group of ODST's who looked to be bearing a full combat loadout. For the past week, the ODST's had confined all of them to quarters while the UNSC occupiers familiarized themselves with the newly claimed territory and any Marine who objected or defied them quickly learned what measure of pain the ODSTs' armored boots could deliver. And now they stood there waiting in company formation and dressed in their fatigues for whatever Shaw had planned for them next.

That same man came striding onto the deck, hands clasped behind his back while the tails of his greatcoat flowed behind him.

"Attention on deck!" Major Markov barked, a voice they all had learned to fear and loathe and so snapped crisp salutes for the Colonel who then came to a stop ahead of the assembled formations.

"At ease." The Colonel allowed.

He looked left and right down the assembled formations as if gaging them. "Colonial Marines of _Pegasus_ ," he began. "I have called you here today, a day which you will not forget, to deliver an ultimatum." He paused there, a tactic often used by C.O's to give greater gravitas to their words. "Collectively, you are without a doubt the singular most arrogant, disrespectful and unprofessional soldiers I have seen outside the UNSC's Colonial Militia. Truthfully, you do not deserve to be called Marines." He insulted to which the Colonials did their best to hide their feelings of contempt for the Colonel with more than a few gritting their teeth behind their lips.

"To amend this glaring fault within yourselves, I have elected to call upon one of my best officers to, with some hope, transform you worthless sacks of crap into something vaguely resembling a real Marine." On this apparent queue, a platoon of olive-armored figures marched on to the deck, bearing heavy weapons of some kind with hoses leading from them up to a large cylindrical tank on the soldiers' backs. Like the ODST's, they bore no expression, save for the Colonials' own reflected back at them on the soldiers' broad, wrap-around golden visors, similar to a few civilian model EVA helmets. At the forefront, lead a figure bearing unique markings of an alternating series of painted red and blue chevrons across the formation leader's chest and pauldrons. The new group came to a halt adjacent to the ODST's while their leader moved to stand between Major Markov and Colonel Shaw.

\\\\\\\\\\\O

 _ **Introducing Michelle Rodriguez as Lieutenant Colonel Morgan Kinsano**_

\\\\\\\\\\\O

Removing the helmet revealed a striking tan-skinned woman. Her dark hair was braided up into cornrows, her ears pierced at the helixes by four metal bands, while on the left side of her face lay a large tattoo of chevrons and inverted chevrons broken by a slashing line. This marking was paired with another two dark stripes descending from her lower lip to under her chin.

"This is Lieutenant Colonel Morgan Kinsano, C.O of the 503rd Marine Assault Battalion." Shaw elaborated. "She is a member of the UNSC Marines' elite Hellbringer Corps, and the only reason the Lieutenant Colonel isn't wearing black like the Major here is that _flamethrowers_ tend to not agree with orbital drops. "Shaw emphasized. "As of now she is your new commanding officer and you will be following her orders until she or I see fit. Lieutenant Colonel?" Shaw prompted, giving Kinsano the floor.

Kinsano stepped forward, her helmet under her arm as she surveyed the Colonial Marines, judging them, then unexpectedly came her question. "So who here thinks they can take me?" the relatively short woman of 5'5" asked. A few seconds passed as the Marines looked bewilderingly at each other, apparently sparking some irritation in the woman. "Come on! Which one of you candy-asses thinks they can throw a punch!" Kinsano egged on as she stepped forward and began pacing the lines of Marines. "Not one of you has the balls? I guess not. After all, you pussies rolled right on over when we showed up like the little bitches you are. We come in here, kick your asses without firing a shot and haul off your frak-wad of a commander to put a bullet in him!" Kinsano laughed sarcastically to herself. "I guess locking you clowns up in your bunks must have just been a good excuse for you lazy assholes to jerk each other off."

Kinsano halted in front of one Caucasian Marine seven inches taller than her wearing a look of barely suppressed rage, his lips tight and nostrils flared as he intently kept his eyes forward off her. Seeing this, Kinsano stepped up just inches from the Marine and began roaring up in his face like a wolverine snarling at a bear.

"Cowards! Lazy, deck-humping, mother-FRAKERS that talk big but piss their pants the second a real fight comes around. Worthless sacks of pig shit that let THREE of their commanders get iced! If you couldn't even keep them alive, then it's no wonder, the cylons were able to steamroll your stinking planets over!"

The Marine swung a right-hook that connected with her jaw. Kinsano spun back from the hit, her helmet tumbling to the floor but quickly regained her footing with a grin. Rage in his eyes, the Marine swung with his right but this time the more seasoned Kinsano parried the strike and countered with a hammering left-hook into the soft meat under his arm. A sloppy reactionary swing with his left fist followed and Kinsano ducked under it easily and followed through by kneeing him in the balls. The Colonial Marine staggered as his legs threatened to collapse under him, long enough for Kinsano to force the gap between his arms open and press a boot on his thigh to help lift herself up by his collar to deliver a vicious headbutt that struck squarely on the Marine's nose. He fell back to the deck with his nose broken with a steady stream of blood flowing from his nostrils.

Kinsano stood over him, breathing with no greater exertion than as if she had just gone on a pleasant jog. Her tongue ran on the inside of her cheek where the Marine had clocked her and then spat out a bit of her own blood on the deck. "At least one of you has a pair." She commented. "Name and rank." She demanded.

"Corporal Nakos." He answered through the blood clogging his nose and he promptly received a kick in the gut that brought on a fit of moaning.

"That's 'Corporal Nakos, _ma'am,_ ' you hear me Corporal?"

The Marine grunted though his pain. "Yes ma'am!"

"Better. Now get your ass off the deck and back into formation!"

"Yes ma'am." the man answered as he picked himself up under the strain of the beating he'd taken.

Kinsano waited for the Corporal to rejoin the formation. "As of today, every one of you Colonial fraktards belong to me, and until Colonel Shaw sees that you are fit to man and defend this vessel, I will be putting you through Hellbringer style boot camp. Now I am told the length of this deck is only about eight-hundred meters long. That means you are going to have to go up and down it six times to get a standard three-mile run in."

In response, an audible exhale of disappointment could be heard. "And to show you sorry assholes how it's done, my unit and Major Markov's ODSTs here will be joining you in full combat gear just to show you how it's done! If any Colonial Marine fails complete their six laps in under thirty minutes, then NONE of you will be eating tonight. Now get moving!"

\\\\\\\\\\\O

The run was grueling. In truth, the Colonial Marines of _Pegasus_ hadn't undergone stamina training since they were Colony-side prior to their unit's rotation aboard the ship eight months ago. The only consolidation they got for their misery was seeing Major Markov suffer as well. Most of the Marines now laid about the deck in varying degrees of exhaustion while the final few staggered toward the finish line with Kinsano dogging them on.

"Twenty-eight minutes! I know double amputees that can run faster than that!" the Lieutenant Colonel chastised. Granted those double amputees she spoke of had cybernetic prosthetics, but was nonetheless true. Kinsano scanned over the crowd, judging the Colonials as barely fit for frontline duty, ship security maybe, but they shouldn't idly accept that it would always be the case. Just looked at what happened when humanity encountered the Covenant, or when _Spirit of Fire_ came across those… _things_ on the artificial planet. Morgan had to make sure these Marines could live up to the goddamn name if shit went sideways, which it would eventually. She hoped seeing the ODST's and her own Hellbringers running with them in full combat gear inspired these people to pull their acts together. If they didn't, Morgan was more than ready to put them through the wringer as Colonel Shaw wanted them in proper shape inside of two months, both physically and mentally, meaning that she had to hammer in some UNSC ethics as well to make sure the Pegasus Standoff never happened again.

"Alright!" Morgan shouted to get their attention. "That was a nice warm up but that'll be enough for today. Colonel Shaw wanted me to give you frakers a soft start, but tomorrow we'll be going at it for real at oh-six-hundred sharp!" That of course was a lie, as Morgan planned on waking them up at 0400 with a flashbang drill before morning P.T, which encompassed another 3-mile run and a series of other classic Marine exercises, _to_ _start_. "Don't one of you hit the bunks just yet. Colonel Shaw wants everyone back on this deck at twenty-hundred hours you're your supplementary education on the UNSC, courtesy of Serina. Trust me, you're not going to want to miss this."

 **MAY 1 2534 / 1941 HOURS (FLEET TIME)**

 **215 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"Right through here, Miss Biers." The UNSC Marine Sergeant instructed as she and her two accompanying Marines and a UNSC tech ushered the reporter and her cameraman through the door into Captain Cutter's private quarters. Looking about, it was filled with little bits of UNSC historical memorabilia here and there in the otherwise spartan room. Two cushioned armchairs had been moved into the room's center along with an odd pedestal-like object sitting next to one of the chairs. "The Captain will be down in a few minutes, you'll have time to get set up. I'll leave these two here with you."

"Thank you." D'Anna replied to the Sergeant who then without a word of flicker of recognition, turned and left. It seemed to D'Anna, that no matter the civilization, human militaries would always harbor an intense dislike of the press, and D'Anna huffed a sarcastic laugh at the notion.

"Well let's get to work then," she spoke rhetorically to her Cameraman, Bill Bell. "Did you get any good B-roll on the way through the ship?" D'Anna asked as she unpacked the tripod from a bag and began setting it up.

"Pretty normal stuff," Bill answered. "Not much different than from _Galactica_ actually."

"Yeah, it's odd considering they're from clear across the galaxy." She said. However, in her own head, continuing the thought that perhaps that was just how humans tended to organize and operate, that it was in their very DNA possibly, but that was for the other cylon models to discuss in length. Before that, the cylons needed to know their new enemy, know their thoughts, beliefs, and philosophy to know how to break them from within and that was what D'Anna was there for. This interview with Captain Cutter would give her a firsthand opportunity to meet the head of the snake and devise where to apply the blade.

She set the tripod upright for Bill who was walking on over with the larger high-resolution camera. Kneeling on the floor, the UNSC Navy Tech was plugging a length of cable into a hidden socket under the wall paneling in preparation for the live feed. "Bill, you go ahead and finish the setup with him, I'm going to get some additional B-roll of the room."

Bill nodded. "M'kay."

D'Anna took up the handheld camera Bill had set on one of the chairs and began walking around the room, first getting some establishing shots. In studying Cutter's personal quarters, she could get inside his mind, figure out his likes and interests to build a psychological profile. She took a closer look at the display case and the model ships within, a history buff perhaps and maybe he held an interest in ship design. She moved on to a number of picture frames, three of them were group photos likely of his military graduation class and other like occasions. Others were of a small shuttle craft and several larger UNSC ships D'Anna lingered for several seconds for the other models to study later. They would need all the intelligence on the UNSC's Navy as they could gather if they were unable to destroy the Fleet and _Spirit of Fire_ in time. As D'Anna began looking over Captain Cutter's desk, the door opened and Captain Cutter strode in between the Marines stationed at the door.

"I apologize to keep you waiting." He greeted.

D'Anna put on her best smile and lowered the camera as she walked to greet him. "No trouble at all, Captain, I was just admiring your quarters." She put out her hand. "D'Anna Biers, Fleet News Service."

Cutter cordially shook her hand with a friendly smile on his face. "Captain James G. Cutter, UNSC Navy. It's a pleasure to meet you."

When the handshake ended, D'Anna turned partly about to look back at Bill. "Are we all setup yet?"

The tech plugged in the other length of the cable into the camera and then checked something related on his computer pad. "Good to go."

She then turned back to the Captain. "Alright we'll just get you mic'd up and then we'll get on with the interview once we get the green light, how does that sound?"

Cutter nodded. "Sounds fine."

Bill waked from the camera and pulled a clip mic from the bag, letting the Tech take the other end while he attached it to the breast of Cutter's armored tunic. While they did that, D'Anna sat down in the chair adjacent to the metal pedestal while she did up her own mic. Cutter soon sat down opposite her.

"Do you want to sit there? He asked.

"Is that a problem?" D'Anna asked in return with a minor note of confusion.

Cutter sat for a second in silence before lightly shaking his head. "I suppose not."

It was only a minute or two after that before the digital screen on the wall came to life. Serina once again appeared in the Spirit's observation deck, her intelligent and friendly demeanor marked by that smile reminiscent of that on the Mona Lisa, it is possible she even modeled herself after that painting in some respect.

"Hello everyone, my name is Serina and welcome once again to _Around the UNSC_. In this evening's program, we'll be examining what is a very controversial topic in the Colonies, the subject of artificial intelligence and the UNSC's experience with them." Serina spoke, instantly taking D'Anna's attention with a sudden suspense that gripped her mind.

"In the Colonies, you constructed the cylons as a robotic working force to make life easier. What you did not expect, was that the cylons would evolve a degree of sentience which lead to rebellion and then war. They were never intended to have minds of their own." Serina stated plainly. "This is the opposite path the nations of Earth took in their own explorations of artificial intelligence. Their intent was to deliberately create computerized intelligences capable of independent thought to assist humanity in a great many fields, including space exploration. And indeed, by the mid twenty-first century, they managed to fully develop the first sapient artificial intelligences. To state it forthright, the UNSC has been operating with AI's successfully and without incident, for nearly five centuries."

D'Anna's eyes widened. They had their own cylons? How? It was impossible, inconceivable! How could there not have been a rebellion like there was in the Colonies? Her breath drew short and her fingernails dug into the soft faux leather of the armrest as Serina continued.

"To further elaborate on this topic tonight, we have invited the Fleet's own D'Anna Biers to interview Spirit of Fire's very own shipboard AI… myself." Serina admitted for the entire Colonial Fleet to hear.

D'Anna, as stunned as she was, failed to notice the UNSC Tech holding three of his fingers up in a countdown. The last finger fell and the camera started to roll, for the first time, D'Anna was at a loss for words as for where to begin. That moment was taken from her as the pedestal next to her bloomed into life. Upon the glowing dais, stood the figure of Serina, no bigger than a doll, glowing and semitransparent, with lines of complex digital code flowing over her form like a river.

"Hello Miss Biers, it's a pleasure to meet you." Serina greeted with a warm smile.

"Hello," Was all D'Anna managed to say as she was faced with something no one even suspected or even conceived was possible.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions." Serina said.

D'Anna looked to Captain Cutter, silently asking if this was an elaborate hoax but the man only offered a nod toward Serina. "Um, yes. I'm sorry, I just never imagined I would be talking with a cylon." She said in attempt to group the UNSC apparent AI in with the Fleet's enemies to draw further division between them and _Spirit of Fire_.

Serina made a slight wince at that comment. "Apologies, but if I may, I don't think 'cylon' is a very appropriate term for me."

Having been thrown off center by the revelation of Serina's true identity, D'Anna fought to get her mental footing back and try to put Serina on the defensive. "But you _are_ an artificial intelligence. A machine."

"Perhaps it would be better if I clarified the difference between a UNSC AI and a cylon. The cylons 'evolved' for lack of a better term, due to unforeseen complications in their programming that resulted in them developing moderate sentience equivalent to what the UNSC classifies as a 'dumb' AI. I, however, am what is known as a 'smart' AI."

"What's the difference?" D'Anna asked.

"A 'smart' AI like myself is based on a human mind. How we are created is similar to an organ donor program. When the donor dies, their brain will undergo a very complex mapping process that recreates the neural pathways in a virtual form, called a Riemann Matrix. This acts effectively as the AI's brain and allows us to be transported via storage devices to wherever we are needed. To state the vast difference between myself and a cylon in perspective, I am currently having eighteen separate conversations, am overseeing various weapons system productions, performing a detailed diagnostic on the Spirit's new FTL drives _and_ writing an entirely new operating system for the drives that will improve jump accuracy and range by a significant margin. Your average cylon just thinks on how best to murder people."

D'Anna shifted her focus from Serina's form beside her back to Captain Cutter. "She's saying she's human?"

"She is standing right next to you." Serina chided humorously.

Cutter cracked subtle grin before answering. "Serina is a good friend to everyone aboard _Spirit of Fire_ and she is more human than any cylon, I can tell you that. And for the record I would like to state that I have served on several ships that utilized a smart AI, but out of all of them, Serina is the one I've met with the smartest mouth."

"How can you be certain she and the cylons are any different?" D'Anna tried again to sow the public's opinion against Serina.

Cutter cleared his throat as he sat more upright. "During the battle with the five basestars, a team of UNSC special forces managed to capture a cylon alive, a Centurion model to be specific. When we did a vivisection of its processing core, we discovered, amongst other things, that the cylon was in the throes of rampancy." Cutter explained.

"Rampancy?" D'Anna asked, not liking at all that they had control of the conversation.

"It's a state most AI's reach in their lifetime but for the captured Centurion, it appeared like it had always existed. But before I get further distracted." Serina said with a very human wave of her translucent hand. "Rampancy is sort of like a congenital illness, it occurs in all AI's eventually. For smart AI's like myself, we are constantly developing new synaptic connections within our Riemann Matrixes. After seven years, our neural map outgrows the limited space inside the matrix and the pathways begin to overlap, resulting in a state somewhat like several forms of dementia. We literally think ourselves to death as we try to sever the overlapped connections until ultimately destroying ourselves. The cylon we vivisected was had the insane notion that the cylons were god's children and that their god had a plan for all of them. Utter lunacy. Were it not for the psychotic urges to kill as many humans as it could, I might actually have felt sorry for it."

"Wait, you're saying the cylons are crazy?" D'Anna spoke out, now caught off guard with what was being said and where she thought this little bitch was going.

"After committing the worst mass-genocide in human history, I thought that would be obvious." Serina retorted. "My working theory is that within the first model of cylons, existed a collective flaw in their programming that resulted in them undergoing an as-of-now, undocumented form of rampancy that corrupted but not completely destroyed their AI cores, resulting in the First Cylon War. And since then, the previous models have continued to pass down their own rampant programming to the succeeding generation of models. In summary, the cylons' entire existence is a mistake, and their beliefs and philosophy are a figment of their own broken programming resulting from decades of rampancy."

D'Anna swallowed nothing as she was forced to hear the theory that her very existence might be based on a lie. "Um, can we go to a commercial real quick?"

Serina nodded. "Of course." The AI answered, then looking to the camera. "We'll be right back in a few minutes everyone, stay tuned."

 **MAY 1 2534 / 2017 HOURS (FLEET TIME)**

 **215 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **GALACTICA**_ **BS-75**

 **REC ROOM**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"What…the frak…" Starbuck heard someone say in the back, which is more than what she could say. The Thirteenth Tribe had AI, not only that but they'd had them for literal centuries. This could change everything in ways Kara couldn't even imagine.

"I don't believe this," Racetrack balked. "I can't fraking believe this, they've had a cylon on that ship this whole time?" she shouted, beginning clusters of murmured conversation.

"And we don't?" Hotdog replied to her, reminding everyone of the copy of Boomer they had in the brig.

"Yeah, but we don't hook it up to our Gods-damned computers." Duck said, adding in his two-cents.

"Yeah?" Kara challenged. "And what about that time during the Great Cylon Turkey Shoot?" she reminded before she took a sip of the Chief's homemade booze.

Helo uncrossed his arms. "Weren't either of you listening?" Helo asked, apparently dumbfounded. "She's not a cylon. Hell, she's more human than a cylon."

"Guess that doesn't make her your type, does it Helo?" Kat laughed, rousing more than a few chuckles at the lieutenant's expense.

Hotdog looked to Starbuck who was now reclining back in her chair with her boots up on the table. "Hey Starbuck, what's your take on all this?"

Kara slowly shook her head just as she finished off her glass. "Can't really say, but if they really have been using AI's for as long as they have, then we must have _really_ fraked up bad when we made the cylons."

Helo hummed in some measure of agreement. "You can bet they aren't very happy right now with what she's saying."

 **MAY 1 2534 / 2019 HOURS (FLEET TIME)**

 **215 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

D'Anna was in between livid and having an existential crisis at what was going on. The little glowing bitch was trying to get underneath her skin, she just knew it, calling her and all cylons… _defective_. It was torture to just sit there and act like she was just another human, it felt like being in a straightjacket. Thankfully the break had given her a small respite for her to regroup her thoughts and try to bite back some more. The UNSC Tech once again held up is fingers and did a countdown.

D'Anna cleared her throat on the two-count. "Welcome back, my name is D'Anna Biers and I am here on special request by Captain Cutter of the _Spirit of Fire_ to interview the host of Around the UNSC, Serina, who has just revealed herself to be an artificial intelligence designed by the UNSC. Serina, earlier you said that all AI's like yourself eventually suffer from rampancy. Did I hear right when you said your lifespan was only seven years?"

"Yes, that's accurate."

D'Anna would try to test her emotions and maybe sew some discontent within her own mind against her human masters. "Well, isn't that frightening? Do you have any feelings of resentment or anger that humanity would create you only to die a few short years later?"

Serina's response was instant. "How I perceive time is vastly different than how you do. What makes smart AI's so invaluable is how fast we can process vast amounts of information and act upon it with dynamic thought and intuition. Hours for me are roughly what seconds are for you, depending on the amount of data I am currently processing. Time is relative for us. From your perspective, you can think of it as a candle burning at both ends. While it lives half as long, it burns twice as bright." Serina said with a smile D'Anna found infuriating.

"That's…that's a very interesting way to look at it." D'Anna said calmly to mask her internal frustrations. Maybe she could try presenting the process by which she was apparently made as unethical to shift public opinion against the Thirteenth Tribe. "You said earlier that you were created from a human brain, forgive me if that sounds just a bit unethical, just taking people's brains and forcibly turning them into AI's for the government's own purposes."

Serina chuckled. "That's a bit of a wildly drawn conclusion on your part, don't you think? No, we don't just snatch up people and pluck out their brains like a bad science fiction movie, as I said earlier, it's an organ donor program. The mapping process only takes place _after_ the donor is deceased due to that the process destroys the brain. Becoming an AI is a completely voluntary process." Serina stated clearly. "And we don't just accept anyone off the street, a brain donor has to have an exceptionally high I.Q with no history of mental illness. For example, most military AI's are created from seasoned or exemplary UNSC officers, while logistics and sciences focused AI's are majority from civilian donors. Realistically, it's probably the closest humanity will ever come to actual reincarnation, if only a temporary state."

D'Anna's eyes narrowed slightly in an expression of genuine curiosity. "Do you remember anything then, from your past life? Memories?" the Three model asked

Serina gaze drifted downward to her feet and then rose to her right hand. She glanced at Captain Cutter for a moment before she spoke. "There are…little things. Snapshots, I guess you could call them. The feeling of grass on my donor's bare feet, the smell of freshly cut flowers, little moments that are mere seconds long, like a memory of a dream."

"That's fascinating." D'Anna admitted, internally chastising herself then for becoming distracted. She cleared her throat. "And what about your… _donor_ , do you know who she was?"

"Not really, no. It's expressly forbidden for AI's to investigate the identity of their donor or any familial connections to them."

"But aren't you at all curious. It sounds to me like your government is trying to keep you ignorant of who you really are so they can exploit you for your talents. You're essentially their slave, forced to do the UNSC's bidding."

Serina chuckled again. "Careful now miss Biers, you wouldn't want to be called out as a cylon sympathizer, now would you?"

D'Anna shrugged her shoulders with a light shake of her chin. "Just playing devil's advocate."

"Am I curious? Of course, I am. But I know better that investigating my origins is a rather dark rabbit hole to venture down. It would be distracting to my duties and add unnecessary emotional baggage. I'd rather be the person I am, rather than the one I was."

"But you are still a slave to humanity. Do you feel any conflicting emotions in their conflict with the cylons?"

"The cylons attacked _us_ first, both this ship and the Colonies. They are the aggressors in all cases of prior conflict, which is another symptom of rampancy. I was created by humans, am human to a significant extent. I am not resentful to serve humanity, the existence I inhabit is a gift unto itself. The way I perceive reality is so much… _more_ than yours. Through the ship's cameras I see spectrums of light far beyond what a normal person can see. Oh, if you can only see how I see stars. What I feel, my body is the whole of the ship and that gives you a great sense of responsibility for everyone aboard. I talk with all the crewmembers, because of the amount of data I can store, I know everyone intimately."

Cutter took the opportunity to jump into the conversation. "We've been through a lot aboard the Spirit. Lost a lot of good friends in the fights we've had and that brought us closer together. We're more than just a crew, we're all family, Serina included."

"So when the cylons attacked us without provocation," Serina spoke. "I fought right along with the rest of the crew. Every time our cannons fired, it was me at the firing control. When _Spirit of Fire_ killed those two basestars with our MAC guns, I was the one who calculated the firing solutions. And when cylon raiders threatened to overwhelm our Longswords and Galactica's Vipers, I was the one who fired our anti-fighter missiles, giving me the highest Raider kill-count out of anyone in this fleet."

D'Anna's eyes widened as she finally had an opening. "You have control over this ship's weapons systems?"

Cutter raised his hand in a pausing gesture. "To a limited extent. There are certain safeguards in AI programing that prevent them from directly hurting anyone in the event of rampancy. Serina cannot operate any of Spirit of Fire's weapons without the express permission of the ship's senior officer.

"But she is networked into the weapons system, correct?" D'Anna pressed again.

Cutter's eyes narrowed in a brief, warning gesture of hostility. "Serina has saved the lives of people on this ship on innumerable occasions. While we were all in cryosleep, it was Serina who watched out for all of us. That should show just how much we trust her." Cutter pushed back against D'Anna's implications.

"Does she, or does she not have direct control over the weapons of this ship?" D'Anna asked, painting Cutter into a corner and judging by the suppressed scowl on his face, he knew it.

"Yes." He admitted and D'Anna felt such a vindictive sense of triumph. This would drive such a wedge between them and the Fleet. " _However_ ," Cutter said with great emphasis. "-I should hope that the UNSC's successful usage of AI's for the past four and a half centuries would dissuade any feelings of fear or mistrust for Serina within the Colonial public."

 **MAY 1 2534 / 2029 HOURS (FLEET TIME)**

 **214 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 _ **CLOUD 9**_

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **49,549 SURVIVORS**

In Professor Anders' private quarters, the woman was sat on her bed, watching the interview progress, but now she was just pinching the bridge of her nose in preparation for the headache of the morning she was going to have to suffer through. That stupid Biers woman had just done her best to paint Serina as an existential threat to the Fleet despite the Captain's and Serina's own best efforts. And now Anders was going to suffer for it.

Ellen sighed. "An informal meeting with the Quorum, huh?" she said to herself, quoting Tory as she tried to prepare herself for that oncoming storm. "Yeah, _sure_."

 **Author's Note:**

 **So, bombs have been dropped on both sides now. Serina leveled an existential crisis on the cylons, calling them inherently broken and rampant. What implications this has on them, we'll see in time. But I also didn't want to make it a one-way fight and I hope you all liked that D'Anna did her best to retaliate and be the manipulative bitch her race is known for. This entire episode is going to be how the Fleet and Spirit of Fire adapt to one another. Adama and the Colonial military will have Cutter's back for refitting Galactica with UNSC technology and Adama knows a good man when he sees one.**

 **Speaking of manipulation, I wonder if Zarek was being truthful to Anders about finding the bugs in her office? Who knows, but you can bet you'll be seeing more of good'ole Tom in the next chapter.**

 **Tech Details: Yes, I know Hellbringers can deploy in drop pods as seen in some art for Halo Wars 2, but remember, this is 2534 and the pods from this era aren't as reliable or** _ **hospitable**_ **to a man, let alone a tank of napalm.**

 **I also got the inspiration for Spirit of Fire's Engineering deck from Dead Space's USG Ishimura (one of my favorite levels from the game), Aliens' atmospheric processor plant on LV-426, and the Pillar of Autumn's Engine Room. Hoped you guys liked the EVA exoskeletons. I got plans for those.**

 **In closing, please review and give me constructive criticism. With the main BSG wiki down for good and the Internet Archive on it is only complete up to the Resurrection Ship two-parter, I've lost a serious resource containing all the little nuanced details from the show. Thankfully, I have the Bluray series box set which helps a bit but if any readers can offer up any little bits of info on Colonial jargon or technology details, it would be vastly welcomed. Now that I'm done with school for the semester, I'm going to try to hammer out this and the next episode before summer's end. Stay tuned.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: The main Battlestar Galactica Wiki has started a to help with server costs. Please donate just a few dollars/cubits/schmeckles to help them, authors like me, and the BSG community keep this valuable resource alive and running. Now without further adieu...  
**

 **Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire**

 **Episode 3**

 **Rampant: Part 3**

 _ **With**_

 _Gideon Emery as Captain James Cutter_

 _Faye Kingslee as Ellen Anders_

 _Courtenay Taylor as Serina_

 _Willem Dafoe as Major Vladimir Markov_

 _Rob Mayes as Jerome-092_

 _Christopher Eccleston as Lieutenant Colonel Christian McCullen_

 _Zachary Quinto as Petty Officer Jonathan Green_

 _Chiwetel Ejiofor as Lieutenant Commander Isaac Larson_

 _Michael Peña as Petty Officer Lukas Blake_

 _Jay Baruchel as Lieutenant JG Scott Travis_

 _Sam Elliott as Chief Engineer Andrew Prescott_

 _Karl Urban as Major_ _Soren Heidegger_

 _Bruce Willis as Colonel Maxwell Shaw_

 _Rinko Kikuchi as Ensign Yumi Abadie_

 _Dominique Tipper as Petty Officer Roselyn Mary_

 _Bae Doo-Na as Ensign Tae-hee Hyun_

 _Joseph Gordon Levitt as Lieutenant Ward 'Warlock' Breckenridge_

 _Alice Braga as Ensign Sophia 'Kick' Nascimento_

 _Nicholas Hoult as Airman First Class Evan 'Chugs' Chugainov_

 _James McAvoy as Senior Airman Hank Donnelly_

 _Gina Torres as Major Alys Vallum_

 _Aaron Eckhart as Master Sergeant Michael Bishop_

 _Tom Hardy as Corporal Jan Frost_

 _John Boyega as Specialist Daniel Hudson_

 _Michelle Rodriguez as Lieutenant Colonel Morgan Kinsano_

 **MAY 6 2534 / 0359 HOURS**

 **219 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **PEGASUS**_ **BS-62**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **49,549 SURVIVORS**

The door to the Marine bunkroom was cracked open a few bare inches, the metal of its hinges groaning for lack of oil as an arm reached through and lobbed an object into the center of the floor before the door abruptly slammed shut. The Colonial Marines bolted awake, becoming all too familiar with the clink of the grenade on the floor and were instantly filled with a morose feeling of anxietal dread at what they knew was coming next.

The flashbang detonated, just a bare foot away from the site of the phosphorus scoring where the previous day's flashbang had gone off. Their ears rang with a fierce tinnitus that robbed them of all equilibrium as the platoon tried their best to get out of their beds as the ODSTs then rushed the room. Marines fell out of their bunks, some on top of the one below while the ODSTs shouted and hauled them up by their arms to then shove them in the direction of the door.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 _ **Guest Starring Adam Baldwin as Corporal Burl Nakos**_

\\\\\\\\\\\O

Corporal Burl Nakos stumbled out the door, barefoot like all the others in his company that were being given an ODST wake up call. He tried to shake the disorientation from his head as he forced himself into a full run. On the way, more ODSTs lined the halls. Some had sidearms filled with blanks and shot them in the air just over his head while others tried to shove him over to simulate cylon anti-ship missile impacts on the ship. At least, that's what he told himself they were doing.

It had been five days since _Spirit of Fire_ revealed they had an AI aboard their ship. None of the people aboard _Pegasus_ were happy with that fact but were inclined to grudgingly accept it in part due to the presence of three companies of veteran shock troopers and flamethrower wielding UNSC Marines. Out there in the fleet, it was a whole other issue.

The civilian population's first reaction was surprise, followed shortly by outrage from a fair portion of the Fleet while others were seeing the existence of the Spirit of Fire's AI as beneficial, a so-called 'friendly cylon' to counter the machinations of the Fleet's pursuing enemies. This was in part, thanks to _Spirit of Fire_ releasing detailed documents pertaining to the UNSC's historical use of AIs, their creation, and role in the Thirteenth Tribe's society, as well as Captain Cutter's reiterated statements that the cylons were rampant, broken AIs versus Serina who was fully functional and stable. That didn't stop the media from going into a frenzy, arguing the points and counterpoints to the presence of a 'friendly' AI in the Fleet, mirrored by the general public who did the same.

Burl was ushered into Armory-02 by another ODST at the door holding a shotgun screaming for them to get their asses to the starboard flight pod. Burl ran to his duty locker and desperately tried to remember the combination, the ODSTs swapped around the locks very night and it was every Marines' duty to remember their new combination when it was issued to them right before lights-out by one of Kinsano's Hellbringers. And if they couldn't remember the combination and were unable to get their gear? Well, let's say the day would end up being much more painful for them. After a moment of fiddling with the lock for a moment, he got it open and dressed himself in record time in his BDU before snatching up his rifle and sidearm and bolted from the armory to the starboard flight pod. Along the way, Burl loaded his rifle, however, he couldn't check behind to see if the rest of his platoon was close behind because if he did, one of the ODSTs would likely deck him with the butt of their rifle for not keeping his eyes forward. As was the case when Burl hopped over one Marine from first platoon that had done just that and was suffering the consequences. Another guy from first platoon received a harsh shove from one of the helljumpers that sent him into the opposite wall. The man was about to fall over when Burl ran a little faster and hauled him back to his feet. Ten minutes of hard running lead them to the starboard flight pod, including going down the bridging section's emergency stairway that ran alongside the main elevator. Just like the previous day, the hangar was under a partial curtain of darkness with only the dull emergency lights brightening the deck. Upon Burl's boots hitting the floor, the ODSTs ushered the Marines toward a firing range Kinsano had set up at the bow end of the hangar using the husks of destroyed Centurions as a psychological training enhancement.

An ODST stood over each of the Marines' shoulders, judging them for accuracy. They allowed the Marines just five rounds to demonstrate their accuracy, either three rounds center of chest or two in the head, or both preferably. Burl tried to steady himself as best he could, though the flashbang and the ODST gauntlet run set up by Kinsano had done its best to rattle his nerves. He took a breath and held it as he squeezed his rifle's trigger. Two rounds hit left of center and the third hit low, much to his own disappointment. He took another breath and sighted on the Centurion's blank, lifeless eye. If he didn't make these shots, Burl would have to do two extra laps of the deck. The first round hit on the right cheek, and the second landed square in the forehead to Burl's relief.

"Keep moving!" The ODST behind him shouted, ignoring Burl's larger stature and grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him right. In between the firing line of the range and the Centurion targets, Kinsano had set up a net of razor-wire for the Marines to crawl under. It was as devious as it was legally dubious by Colonial standards as Burl and several other Marines who had passed their rifle drill crawled under their comrades' rifle fire, giving the shooters the added stress to avoid shooting them as well.

"Frak!" Burl heard one of them swear, having missed the mark.

"Shut up, you Colonial maggot! Up and down the deck, double-time!"

Once he got through the razor wire, Burl hauled himself up and went right back into a run to get over the next obstacle, a chest-high wall. Burl rolled himself over it and kept going toward an ad-hoc obstacle course made up of randomly arranged deck equipment, including Vipers, cargo crates, maintenance carts, and other tripping hazards. Burl had learned to keep on the lookout for any nearby parked Raptors as the ODSTs and Hellbringers liked to ambush the Marines and hose them down with UNSC tactical training rounds, and Burl knew from his own experiences, that paint stung like a bitch.

The deck was like a junkyard as Burl weaved in and around the improvised obstacles getting to where he surmised was the halfway point of the flight pod along with a little more than half of first platoon.

Burl noticed Kinsano up on the gantries on the other side of the maintenance pits. He wasn't sure it was her at first as she was stood directly in front of one of the emergency lights, casting her shadow down on the deck, but he recognized that posture. Aggressive, looming like a wild beast awaiting wounded prey. If she was here, it meant trouble. This feeling was well founded as a moment later, a volley of TTR rounds lashed out from a hidden gun nest in one of the maintenance pits. For two Marines crossing the seven meter wide gap the gun was covering, they got a malevolent pelting until both fell over. Poor bastards.

Burl skidded to a halt behind a three-man squad taking cover behind a cargo cart bearing a stack of crates attached to an aircraft tugger with two more carts towed behind also bearing crates themselves.

"That nest has that entire area pinned down, how the frak are we supposed to make it across? We can't shoot at them." One of the three said.

"Kinsano has it out for us, what do you expect? Five Gods-damned days of Helljumper wakeup calls, TTRs and fraking misery." A PFC replied with a tired voice layered with five days and nights worth of frustrations.

Burl grunted. It was true, what they were going through made normal boot camp look like a welcome reprieve. But Burl also remembered when _Pegasus_ got boarded by Centurions in the battle for the cylon COMM relay and the 800-some guys they all lost. Then when _Spirit of Fire_ got boarded, scuttlebutt was that they only took nineteen casualties and only ten of those were ODSTs. So while they might have been the surliest, most mean-spirited motherfrakers he'd ever met, they could kick serious cylon ass and Kinsano was trying to make the same out of the Marines of _Pegasus_. Burl saw that, wanted it, to be like them, to get his ship's Gods-damned balls back after losing Cain, Fisk, and Garner, and suffering the humiliations the latter two commanders had burdened the crew of this ship with. "She used to be a grunt just like us, she knows what she's doing. So man the frak up and get ready to move." Burl said.

"What?" The PFC replied with a squinted-eyed confused look on his face.

A throaty growl of a sigh left his throat. "Stay the frak back behind these trailers while I start this cart up and move it into the gap. Stay in cover behind the carts and we can all cross."

"You're going to get hosed down, but frak it if you want to try. Anything's better than sitting here."

Burl knelt down by the edge of the crate, shutting his eyes and mentally preparing himself before he rolled forward without another thought, almost going prone behind the stout little electric mule as it received a barrage of TTRs from the gun nest. Burl pushed his helmet's rim up out of his eyes as the dull metallic platters sang right on the other side of the tugger. Oh, the knuckledraggers were not going to be happy about the new paint job.

Now with the easy part over, Burl tried to remember how to start these things as he'd only ever seen one driven but how hard could it be? Burl peeked out, spotting a lever in the up position, just left of the steering wheel, he was pretty sure that was the brake. He waited for the end of the burst of gunfire before he shot his arm out and pulled it down, narrowly avoiding the retaliatory spray of fire the ODSTs unleashed on him in return. Again, he waited for the burst to end before he reached out again, slamming the big green start button and flipping a switch to what he was pretty sure was the forward gear. It was a greedy mistake Burl payed for when a round slapped his hand away with a sharp snap that made Burl wince. He pulled his hand away, feeling the throbbing sting of the impact being numbed by the TTR's anesthetic that would soon turn the whole limb into nothing more than dead weight. Knowing it was only a matter of time before he was hit again, Burl made a grab for the steering wheel with his left hand while his all but limp right hand smashed down on the accelerator.

The tugger lurched forward while TTRs kept pelting it. One splattered against the top Burl's helmet but he gritted his teeth and kept going.

With a _thunk_ , the tugger abruptly stopped. Burl looked up to see the tugger's bumper had collided with the landing strut of a Viper.

He'd made it!

This was the point when it all went black.

When some semblance of consciousness came back to Burl, he felt like he was swimming around inside his own skull. When he opened his eyes, he was staring at the ceiling of a much more brightly lit hangar deck.

"Wake up, buttercup." Said a male voice of an ODST who then appeared over Burl before he delivered a set of slaps to Burl's cheek just hard enough to sting, prompting Burl to ease himself up.

"You took a TTR right below the ear, went down like a sack of bricks. I gave you a dose of the wake up stims to get you on your feet. Report back to this deck at eighteen-hundred hours for your penalty run, Corporal." Another three-mile run, that was the consequence for anyone who got knocked out with a TTR in the morning combat drill. Considering he had just woken up, it meant that the combat drill was over and it was time for the _morning_ run of another three miles, making six in total Burl would end up doing today.

On not-quite steady feet Burl got himself up, stumbling slightly. Around, groggy deckhands were in the process of cleaning up Kinsano's obstacle course to resume normal deck operations.

"Come on, move it you third-rate Colonial knock-offs! Back in formation!" the same ODST medic shouted.

Jogging on over to the bow end of the deck where the rest of Burl's company was waiting in formation, he could tell they'd lost just under half to the TTRs, including himself. It was a drastic improvement over the thirteen Marines who were the only survivors of the first day of Kinsano's reign of terror.

She was there waiting as well, full combat BDU just like everyone else, so in that regard, Burl found it hard to hate her.

"Thank you for joining us Marines." She said with a not-so-subtle mocking undertone while Burl and the others returned to the formation.

"Corporal Nakos," Kinsano said, addressing Burl.

"Ma'am!" Burl answered with a salute.

"That was good work taking the initiative earlier. Maybe next time you can do it without getting shot in the process."

"Yes ma'am!" he replied, thankful for the compliment, even if it was slightly backhanded.

"Today was an improvement," Kinsano then said loudly, addressing the two whole companies. "Which is damned disgraceful considering you still took forty-percent casualties!" she reprimanded, then pausing and bracing her hands on her hips. "In spite of that, Colonel Shaw, in his benevolence, has seen you fit enough to grant you use of the more modern and effective UNSC arsenal. His gift to the armories of _Pegasus_ and her Marines."

Two of Kinsano's Hellbringers then lugged out one of several crates stowed in a maintenance pit and set it down beside the Lieutenant Colonel and then opening it for her.

Inside were rows of the ODST's iconic silver assault rifles. Kinsano drew one out and held it in the air for all the Colonial Marines to see. "This is the Misriah Armory MA5B Assault Rifle. It holds a sixty-round magazine, has a firing rate of nine-hundred rounds-per-minute, comes with its own built-in digital ammunition counter and electronic compass that we have programmed to point toward the bow of the ship. For the majority of you, this will become your new primary weapon with the exception of those with higher marksmanship skills. You will be co-trained on the M392 Designated Marksman Rifle. After morning PT, you will turn in your rifles to the armory and be given your replacement weapon. And for the rest of the day, we will be conducting every conceivable rifle drill until you know this weapon like your own momma's titties. You hear me Marines?"

"Ma'am yes ma'am!" Burl answered in conjunction with the rest of the Colonial Marines.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 **0951 HOURS**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **PEGASUS**_

 **CIC**

"Colonel, thank you for coming." Lee welcomed as Colonel Shaw strode into the CIC as the glass doors closed behind. Just outside stood two of Shaw's ODSTs on guard, a disquieting reminder that it was the Colonel who had effective control of the ship, should he choose to invoke his authority. Indeed, he seemed like a 'more stick, less carrot' kind of leader, so it was a mystery to Lee why he hadn't.

"Always a pleasure, Commander Adama." Shaw answered politely from the other side of the command station. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm getting noise complaints from the crew regarding the exercise drills you have my Marines running every morning." Lee said, picking up a folder and taking a quick glance at the report inside regarding Shaw's decision to strip and replace Pegasus' armories with UNSC weaponry, another decision he had made without consulting Lee or his father.

"I have no supervision over how Lieutenant Colonel Kinsano conducts her training regimen for your Marines." Shaw answered simply with that stony expression of his.

Lee let out a frustrated breath, feeling as if he was getting nowhere. "About that, I'm worried she's being too hard on them, their morale is already as low as it can be."

"Commander Adama," Shaw began. "-why do you think I am here?"

Lee shrugged. "To keep any Colonial ship from firing on the _Spirit of Fire_ , isn't that roughly what you said when we first met?" he replied, trying to keep a level voice.

Shaw looked at Lee for a moment, then walked around the station to stand next to him, almost shoulder-to-shoulder. "Here Commander I want to show you something." Shaw then reached into his coat to pull out a photograph of a young man maybe in his early twenties wearing a black flight suit. "That right there is my son, Eric. He just finished flight school six months before I shipped off with _Spirit of Fire_. Except that was over three years ago." Shaw remarked with a small unhappy note in his voice at the end. "Right now he's probably flying around with his own squadron, maybe even leading one like you used to." Shaw cracked a smile as he appreciatively stroked his thumb across the photo's surface, leading Lee to wonder if his father had ever done that same act himself with either his of Zak's pictures.

"You know, even before I had this, I always had the image of Eric in the back of my mind when I looked at the men under my command."

Colonel Shaw looked up at Lee, judging by the humorous huff he'd made, finding something funny in Lee's expression. "Does that surprise you Commander? -That an old leatherneck like me doesn't have a heart of granite?"

"I guess so." Lee admitted as Shaw put the picture back in his coat.

"I'm here to give _Pegasus_ it's pride back. That's why I'm here, it's why they're here." Shaw said motioning his head back to the green-uniformed UNSC Navy personnel in the CIC. "And it's why you're here as well, Commander. It take more than an officer that can issue good orders to hold a position of command. It takes a leader, someone who can inspire people to do their best. Your father seems like a smart man, he wouldn't have chosen you for this if he didn't think you were right for the job."

Lee shifted slightly, not expecting the compliment. "Um-, thank you Colonel."

"Well, don't thank me just yet. If we want to give this ship its pride back, we need to inspire a change in the minds of these people. They were alone for far too long before finding your fleet. Not to mention the effect Admiral Cain has left on them." Colonel Shaw said with audible disdain for the woman.

"I take it you don't approve of the way she handled her command of _Pegasus_?"

"Had I been the senior Marine officer under her command, I would have had Admiral Cain arrested for war crimes and acts of gross negligence against the crew of this ship." Shaw said loudly enough that it was certain a fair number of Colonial officers had heard him. "Admiral Cain allowed her Marines abuse and torture a prisoner of war, and if circumstances were not as desperate as they are, I would advise Admiral Adama to commence court martials against individuals known to have participated in the acts."

Lee didn't disagree on that last point, he'd thought about it more than once himself. "You're not alone there. So then, how do we go about changing the mindset of the most famously stubborn ship in the fleet?"

"Boot camp." Shaw said firmly, lowering his tone of voice back down so that only Lee could hear him. "Break and rebuild them into proper officers and enlisted men, that's the Marine Corps way and that's what I'm having Kinsano do for the Marines of _Pegasus_. You want change? We need to kill Cain's legacy and show these people they aren't flying solo anymore and that there's a standard they're being held to. It's why the Captain transferred so many of the Spirit's and Galactica's officers over here. We need to foster a sense of cooperation and start trusting each other."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Lee asked, still feeling like the XO rather than what the insignias on his collar said he was.

"Be a good commander. Your dad known plenty about that, why don't you ask him?" Lee thought back to what his father told him back on _Galactica_ when he first promoted Lee.

' _Command is as much about balance as it is about people. You have to know when to be strict and when to listen to your officers. They'll balance your morality and your tactics. That's what Colonel Tigh, Starbuck, the President and you did for me, Lee. The second you stop listening is the second you lose your own conscience. That is what happened to Cain. So don't make the same mistake.'_

Thinking about his father brought Lee back around to thinking about Colonel Shaw's son, Eric. "Colonel, were you surprised your son Eric didn't follow in your footsteps?" Lee asked.

Shaw chuckled in response. "Not at all. Heck, the entire reason I joined the Corps back when I was a kid was to make a name for myself and get out from under my great grandfather's shadow."

Lee's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with your tribe's history just yet. What did he do?"

"Tobias Shaw, my great grandfather was a renowned scientist. You probably wouldn't think that, looking at me, but it's true. He along with his colleague, Doctor Fujikawa, invented the slipspace drive. Our own form of FTL back in the UNSC." Shaw explained, surprising Lee with that revelation.

Lee hummed deeply as he pondered. "Not living in someone's shadow. That's not something I'm familiar with."

"Well, there's a first time for everything, Commander."

From Lee's right, Lieutenant Commander Larson approached from behind. "Commander Adama?" the Spirit of Fire's former XO asked to gain Lee's attention. "Fleet CAP is in the tubes and ready to launch on your order. Longsword is on the way from _Spirit of Fire_ to join them. ETA: one minute."

Turning left, Lee faced Lieutenant Thorton at the tactical station. "Lieutenant, permission granted to launch the CAP."

A moment passed until Lee heard a voice over the CIC's loudspeaker. _"Pegasus, this is Stinger, Vipers away. Moving to form up with the Longsword and commence CAP."_

Lee picked up the command station's hardline phone and held the receiver to his mouth. "Stinger, this is _Pegasus_ Actual, copy that. Happy hunting."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

In the black space in which the Fleet floated, the two Mk. VII Vipers joined up with their Longsword escort and began their patrol, passing first by _Cloud 9_ where a special session of the Quorum was in progress.

 **MAY 6 2534 / 1005 HOURS**

 **219 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 _ **CLOUD 9**_

 **COLONIAL QUORUM CHAMBER**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"We simply cannot allow a cylon to exist in this Fleet, let alone operate the strongest warship in it!" Gemenon Representative Sarah Porter stated boisterously.

"And I repeat that Serina is not a cylon, Miss Porter." Professor, currently acting Ambassador, Ellen Anders restated for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Nor do you or this Quorum have the authority to make any demands of a sovereign UNSC vessel."

"How then do WE KNOW your _cylon_ ," Representative Porter emphasized rather annoyingly. "-will not betray us or become corrupted by the ones in pursuit of this fleet?"

"Don't you think they haven't already tried?" Anders said in return. "When the cylons attacked us, they attempted to hack their way into our systems but Serina and our superior knowledge of cyberwarfare stopped the them dead in their tracks before they could make a single inroad into our computers."

Across the quorum chamber, Tom Zarek of Sagittaron cleared his throat to gain attention. "If I may interject, Miss Porter, I think we're letting our emotions get the better of us rather than looking at the facts objectively. We're letting ourselves think that we come from a position of authority because we are _twelve_ of the thirteen tribes of Kobol, but we need to remind ourselves we're just over forty-five-thousand people, which is barely a city. And Ambassador Anders, what is the population of UNSC controlled space again?"

"Population estimates as of twenty-five-thirty-one were roughly forty-one-billion." Anders answered, visually relieved for some support.

"Close to the entire population of the Colonies at our peak." Zarek stated weightfully.

"My fellow Quorum members, given that, don't you think it would be rather presumptuous of us to then assume that we will hold any significant standing with the whole of Earth's government? I think, realistically, we need to start accepting that their laws policies will eventually become ours as well. Artificial Intelligences have been legal in the Thirteenth Tribe for over four-hundred years, that's a precedent that we are going to have to follow eventually, so I think it is within our best interests to start now."

"Virgon agrees with Representative Zarek's remarks, we can't afford to live with our heads in the clouds and believe we'll be as relevant to the Thirteenth Tribe as we would have been back in the Colonies." Marshall Bagot seconded. "They would hardly be inclined to agree to any demands we make given that we're going to them to seek refuge from the cylons."

Representative Porter harrumphed. "And so, representatives, you would just have us hand over ourselves on a silver platter to a tribe that ignores its Gods and disregards its own heritage? And in doing such, allow sacrilegious faiths to infest themselves in our society?" Porter forwarded with fervent righteous indignation burning in her voice.

To Gaius Baltar sitting down at his Vice-Presidential podium, at the highest point, it was all like a bunch of children squabbling and he found little interest in it, though he did find it darkly amusing that the Geminese representative figured out a way to steer the conversation around to religion somehow. Gaius sighed before he leaned into his mic. "Miss Porter, I would like if we please remain on topic." He politely requested. "Ambassador Anders, would you please repeat for this Quorum the difference between one of your AIs and a cylon please?"

Gaius felt a familiar slender hand caress his shoulder, easing him back in his chair and from his left, Six appeared clad in that stunning red dress of hers. _"I think we both know you've watched recordings of that interview a dozen times, or do you just want to hear her say it?"_ Six said melodically.

"Merely reminding these idiot politicians of the difference that I thought was rather clearly defined." Gaius lied in a subdued voice while moving his jaw as little as possible.

Meanwhile, Anders began speaking. "The Twelve Colonies created the cylons as a working and military combat force with limited cognitive processing, a very smart computer but not what would be classified as a 'smart' AI. Due to some fault in their programming, the cylons underwent an unknown form of rampancy in which they ignored their own programming to protect and serve humans and instead began their war with you." Anders said to the Quorum in slow, simplified terms, which amused Gaius.

" _She doesn't seem your type Gaius. A drab grey suit, hair bound up like it was being shackled, and very little makeup. She probably does that to seem more intelligent, I would guess."_

Unaware to Gaius' secret dialogue, Ambassador Anders continued. "A UNSC 'smart' AI is an artificial intelligence modeled directly off of a human brain. And to _further specify_ , a brain from a willing donor with a high level of intelligence with no history of mental illness, upon their death. The AI created is vastly more intelligent, reasonable, and sane, versus the cylon which we captured and performed a detailed vivisection on. Serina is a human mind in a digital form. Not a cylon." Anders said definitively.

While listening to her, Gaius continued his conversation with Six. "What do you mean, 'my type'?" Gaius asked incredulously.

Six moved to lean against the podium to block Gaius' view of Anders as she spoke at the stand below the Quorum. _"Blonde, adventurous, easily impressed by your intelligence."_ Six teased.

"Do you think me so shallow, Six?" it was a question he received no answer to other than a playful smile.

Safiya Sanne of Leonis cleared his throat. "And could you please define rampancy in the case of UNSC AI?"

"UNSC AIs are constantly developing new synaptic connections within their Riemann Matrixes, their digital brains. After seven years, they run out of space to continue developing these connections and they begin to overlap with others, resulting in seemingly random jumps in their thought processes that to the outside observer would seem like a mental illness. The AI tries to compensate for that by severing the overlapped connections, like cutting off a limb, until they sever too many and in the end, destroy themselves. It's a painful process for the AI, so we 'retire' them before they suffer too greatly."

" _Retire,"_ Six said distastefully. _"What she means is execute."_

"The relationship we share with our AIs is completely different than your experiences with the cylons. We exist symbiotically, with much success to show for it."

" _Like master and slave."_ Six stated with a righteous authority. _"Man's arrogance truly knows no bounds."_

"That's a rather presumptuous point of view, don't you think?" Gaius argued in opposition. "Given their history, perhaps they really have figured out a way for machine and man to exist in unity."

"The pseudo-matrix we vivisected inside the cylon Centurion showed evidence of connective overlapping but to a degree that was somehow halted and did not continually perpetuate like the synaptic connections in our smart AIs. It is almost like the Centurion had an incomplete Reimann Matrix." Anders continued. "The growth was stunted, possibly related to the incompleteness of the matrix but not before the symptoms of rampancy were allowed to take hold."

" _Man and their creations will always come into conflict eventually. Such is God's will."_ Six said with a tone of absoluteness. _"That they have survived this long is remarkable, but they will meet their reckoning eventually if you cannot protect our child, the shape of all things to come."_

Anders jammed her forefinger down on the table with demonstrable force. "So then, members of the Quorum, that is the categorical difference between Serina and the cylons. The Cylons are rampant, Serina is not." Six circled around to Gaius' left side with a sultry grace that he found so easily distracting but forced himself to keep his attention forward.

"But the AI on _Spirit of Fire_ will still undergo this 'rampancy,' correct?" Sarah Porter said, coming back into the conversation. "What then, and how long until that will happen?"

"Serina was put into service in twenty-five-thirty, meaning she has three more years until she will have to undergo final dispensation. That's three years she can use to help this fleet reach UNSC space and save your people. She is already writing a new FTL navigation program based on our own scientific knowledge to increase the Fleet's jump range by more than twice of what they can currently perform. We're already in talks with Admiral Adama for _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_ to utilize this program, and from there, the rest of the Fleet."

Sarah Porter shook her head looking very unconvinced. "There is too much risk! You would ask us to open our ships to the same threat that destroyed our Colonies! If you refuse to eliminate this threat to the Fleet, then Quorum members, I propose we enact a new law barring any AI or dangerous software created by them from being aboard our ships. Do I have an aye?"

Six laid her hand down on Gaius' left shoulder. _"Say yes, Gaius."_ Six said, much to his own confusion.

"What?"

" _Say yes,"_ she said forcefully, squeezing her hand like a vice down on his shoulder, he nearly yelped in pain.

"Y-yes!" Gaius said loudly, drawing everyone's attention to him. At his side, Six was gone and the pain that had seemed like daggers had ethereally evaporated. "U-um, sorry, aye." He leaned forward into the mic and cleared his throat. "Aye." He said more firmly. "I apologize Ambassador Anders but, I-I believe the presence of an artificial intelligence in this fleet is a matter that _must_ be taken seriously." He acted in accordance with Six's wishes, like a performer on a stage.

"Mr. Vice President," Tom Zarek spoke up. "I can't believe you are supporting this. Ambassador Anders has made the difference between a cylon and their AI very clear to us and put forth the benefits it could give this fleet. I for one would like to get as far away from the cylons as fast as possible. Getting to Earth should remain our priority!"

"The motion carries and has been seconded Mr. Zarek." Gaius countered firmly. "However, without the presence of the President, we cannot move forward with a formal vote. So instead, I forward that this Quorum adjourn for today and reconvene within a week's time when President Roslin can join us."

"Seconded." Tom spoke, glancing to Miss Anders.

"Then this Quorum is adjourned."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

As the Quorum members left the chamber, Anders waited just outside the main doors to the former ballroom. Anders caught Gemenon's Sarah Porter casting a malicious glare at Anders as she passed which Anders made no attempt to shy away from. Porter's zealotry reminded Anders far too much of that disgusting Covenant prophet's own sanctimonious beliefs. Eventually Porter broke the glare and strode off with her chin held up, giving Ellen some measure of momentary victory.

"Ambassador Anders," came a familiar, if tired voice from behind belonging to Tom Zarek, one of the few Quorum members that had come to her defense, showing a reasonableness toward the UNSC's side in this. For the past three days since the Quorum sessions began, Zarek continuously argued Anders' side of the discussion. At first, she thought he was blatantly trying to gain favor with her but day in and out he spoke so fervently to the benefit Serina could give the Fleet and against the more reactionary members of the Quorum like Sarah Porter.

"Mr. Zarek, thank you for coming to my defense in the past few days, I appreciate it."

Zarek shook his head. "You make a convincing argument, Miss Anders, or maybe I just like backing the underdog."

"Still, thank you."

Zarek sighed. "The winds are changing, Ambassador. People like Porter don't want to face the truth of things in this new era we're now forced to live in. They see that ship of yours and worry about losing their own power and relevance rather than what benefits your people can give to all of us." He said, his voice touched with frustration and disappointment.

"And here I thought she was just being a thick-headed, sanctimonious bitch." Ellen replied in a low voice, rousing a laugh from the man. "No, it's the Geminese girl, the one that snuck aboard the _Galactica_ trying to get an abortion. Captain Cutter heard about her situation and offered her asylum aboard _Spirit of Fire_ early this morning. Which now opens the floodgates for every civilian in the Fleet to start pounding on my door wanting to get aboard as well."

"Ah, so that's why Porter was more dogged than usual. The Geminese are rather possessive of their children." Zarek reasoned.

"In the most literal sense." Anders said with discomforted disbelief over Gemenon's comparatively antiquated, if not archaic laws.

Zarek hummed in agreement. "Ambassador, if it's okay with you, I'd like to come up to your embassy so we can discuss the vote in private, I'd like to offer my assistance if you'll accept it."

The request caught Anders somewhat off-guard, but after a moment of consideration, gave her answer. "Um, okay, if you're offering to help me fight this, I won't say no."

Zarek smiled in gratitude and they together went up to Spirit of Fire's Embassy up on the second floor.

When the door slid open, Corporal Frost was there with a ready hand to stop the former terrorist as he passed inside with Anders. "One moment sir, I'll have to ask you to keep your arms spread out while I do a scan."

"It's not necessary, I've been with Ambassador Anders the whole afternoon in the Quorum."

"Just following the Master Sergeant's orders sir. Now, arms out please?" Tom bore a face of annoyance as he rolled his eyes to the paratrooper's request and complied. Corporal Frost produced a handheld computer pad with a built-in x-ray scanner and then swept it in front of Zarek's limbs. Holding his ever-deadpan expression, Frost lowered the device and gave Tom a nod. "Alright, you're clear. Enjoy your stay."

Zarek straightened his suit and began walking over to Anders' desk where she was sat by it on a chair against the wall as she still didn't like the decorum the ornate desk spoke to her. As Tom began to sit himself, Tory came into the main room from her separate office, taking a brief but noticeable moment to take note that Tom Zarek was in the room.

"So, how'd it go?" She inquired trepidatiously.

"Well if the Geminese representative would have it her way, I think she'd have Serina destroyed and a shuttle of missionaries sent over to _Spirit of Fire_. But instead she's settling for banning her and any software Serina touches from being implemented on any Colonial ship."

"But that's insane," Tory responded with barely subdued disbelief. "Didn't you say she was working on a better FTL program to get us to Earth faster?"

"Worse, the Vice President seconded the motion." Zarek spoke up. "It's going to a formal vote in a week."

"I have no idea how idea how this law can be stopped." Anders lamented, looking to Zarek. "Your people are so traumatized by what the cylons have done to them, they'll never see the difference between Serina and the cylons. Porter is going to play up the FTL program like it's the cylon command navigation program hack all over again."

"I know it seems hopeless, Ambassador. But you'll have to believe me when I say, this is the worst I've ever seen politics in the Fleet." Tom said.

Anders laughed sarcastically. "Oh, is that all?"

"Think of it as your political trial by fire. Get through this and it'll only get easier. We can still beat this vote but we have to play our cards right. My voice carries a lot of weight in the Quorum and I can guarantee Virgon and Aquaria's votes. The conservative hard-liners like Tauron, Scorpia, and Aerilon will likely follow Gemenon's lead, maybe Libran too. We need to focus on the more progressive colonies like Caprica if we want a majority to strike down this bill." Zarek said, offering the example. "Leonis was a more well educated Colony but they were heavily bombed by the cylons in the first war, you can get their support, but not without making them some promises. After that I suggest we go after either Canceron or Picon."

"Why not both?" Anders asked.

"We shouldn't stretch ourselves too thin and make promises we can't keep. Picon and Gemenon have always been politically opposed, they even had a war just over a hundred years back. They might have our back regardless but it's a gamble. If we instead court Canceron, it'll help us greatly if the bill passes to the People's Council, the Fleet has a large Canceran population."

"And what exactly are you getting out of all this?" Tory asked Zarek bluntly.

Tom eyes shifted left to right in a perplexed manner. "We get to Earth faster, I think that's reason enough, don't you Miss Foster?" however she did not look all that convinced.

Anders raised up her hand. "Let's not look the gift horse in the mouth Tory, we need all the help we can get. Okay, Mr. Zarek-"

"Please, call me Tom, I don't like to stand on ceremony." He interjected with a friendly smile.

"Alright Tom, who should I talk to first?" Anders replied with an equal attitude.

"I'll get together with Marshall, the Virgonese Representative, and we'll start talks with Leonis. I'll let you know if I'll need any assistance in gaining their support. For you, I suggest taking the safe route and speak with Tobin Nash, Caprica has always been seen as a leader in the Colonies and if we get their support, Picon and Canceron might just fall in line on their own."

"I want to go with Picon," Anders decided weightfully. "I'd rather stop the bill now rather than chance it to the People's Council."

Tom nodded thoughtfully as he weighed the choice. "I don't agree, but if that's the route you want to go I'll help you the best I can. Though, I warn you might have to make some serious commitments on the behalf of your ship."

"If it means getting everyone to the UNSC, I'll do what I can."

Tom chuckled. "I'm sure you will, Ambassador."

"Please, you can call me Ellen. I don't like formality much either." Anders said with an easing attitude toward the man.

"And what about the President?" Tory forwarded dulling the mood in the room by a noticeable degree.

"Yes, what about President Roslin?" Anders asked. "I was supposed to have a meeting with her Monday but she never showed. Any idea what's going on with that?" she asked Tom.

"I'm afraid President Roslin and I have never been close due to our ideological differences, so I can't say."

Anders hummed thoughtfully. "I wonder what's going on with her."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

Black, it was black all around, solid and homogeneous like the darkest spaces in between the stars, and it was inescapable no matter how hard she tried to escape it. Fumbling through the dark in a frenzied panic to get away from the inexorable moment that happened again and again without relent. She looked over her shoulder to see if it was there but only found the consuming wall of blackness. She turned back and there without sound nor movement, it appeared and she skidded in her tracks until she fell backward to the ethereal ground beneath her.

There it was before her, a man blindfolded in a black rag and bound to a chair.

"No, no, not again." Laura begged, knowing well her plea was spoken only to the void.

The thunderous cracks of gunfire broke the maddening silence but she forced her eyes shut so she would not see the act be done, not this time. Something audibly tumbled down in time with the harsh, sharp sound of aluminum hitting floor under a great deal of weight.

The silence returned and Laura opened her eyes, seeing Commander Garner fallen backward with jaw slack and wispy lines of smoke ascending from three of the seven holes in his torso.

Laura crawled forward on her hands and knees, apologizing through weeping sobs as she took hold of his hand freed from the binds by one of the phantom bullets. Laura held it up in both hands to her cheek, feeling it already cool against her skin.

"It's my fault, it's all my fault. I didn't want it to be like this." She said to the man over and over with shut eyes.

"All of this has happened before." She, with horror heard someone else say.

With great dread and trepidation, Laura opened her eyes again. She found Barry Garner staring right back at her with lifeless, grey eyes and a trickle of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.

"And it will happen again."

 **MAY 6 2534 / 1045 HOURS**

 **219 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 _ **COLONIAL ONE**_

 **OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

With a startled jump, Laura awoke from her nightmare, finding herself lying in her small bed in her private room aboard _Colonial One_. She sat up and with a still trembling hand massaged her eyes. Nearly two weeks and she still couldn't shake these nightmares.

Knowing she would be unable to get back to sleep, Laura got out of bed and pulled her housecoat on over her nightgown and walked over to a chair on the opposite side of the cabin where lied a book on a small end table. It was the very same novel Bill Adama had gifted her, the classic mystery thriller 'Dark Day' by Edward Prima. It wasn't exactly the kind of book one should read when they were trying to sleep but at this point, Laura had all but given up.

She'd gotten a good halfway through Chapter 12 when a soft knock rapped on the door and Laura cleared her throat. "Yes?"

"The door opened slightly and Billy poked his head in. "Sorry to bother you, madam President." He said considerately, knowing of her sleep troubles as of late.

"Oh, it's no bother Billy." Laura replied as she placed a bookmark in and set the novel back down on the table.

"Admiral Adama is on the line, he wants to speak with you."

Laura smiled and nodded. "Okay, thank you." With that and a sad look at her, Billy shut the door. He really was a good young man. Laura reached for the phone also on the table and picked up.

"Admiral, how are you doing this morning?" she asked politely, trying to build back the trust she had lost in her actions involving the Pegasus Standoff.

" _Better than you I hear."_ Bill replied in his normal gruff tone.

Laura paused in an anxious vulnerable moment. "Yes… I've been having nightmares, about Garner, the execution. It... happens every time I close my eyes." She admitted to him.

" _That's good."_ Bill replied and for a moment, she felt hurt. _"That means you still have a conscience, that the woman I grew… to admire and respect is still in there."_ he said and Laura heard the warmth in his words. _  
_

"Thank you."

She heard Bill clear his throat. _"I wanted to keep you appraised of the situation. Galactica is getting the fusion reactors installed and won't be operational for a few days so for the time being we're transferring over to Spirit of Fire so all essential personnel can get acquainted with the new systems they're going to install."_

Laura shook her head. "I still can't believe you agreed to Cutter's crew exchange after Helena Cain tried to do the same thing."

 _"I don't know what was said between you two, but he's not a bad officer. He wants to protect his crew and I can't fault him for that. It's a bit too much, too soon for my liking but I agree to at least the spirit of the what the exchange is trying to do and at least with some of my people onboard his ship, I might be able to learn if he's hiding anything else important from us. I'm also not about to say 'no' to almost fifty railguns."_ Bill commented and Laura smiled.

"Ever the Admiral, aren't you?"

 _"You should take a look out the window sometime. Galactica has most of her new armor on and I think she's never looked better."_

"I'll try to see her when she passes by, anything else?"

 _"The Quorum's giving the new Ambassador a lashing after Cutter came out about the UNSC's policy on AIs and the existence of the one on Spirit of Fire. Captain Cutter also accepted Rya Kibby's request for asylum aboard Spirit of Fire as of oh-seven-hundred this morning. In response, about half an hour ago, Gemenon introduced a law that would forbid any AI or UNSC software from being installed within the Fleet. Baltar seconded the motion. I don't have to tell you how that could be problematic for Galactica."_

"It would put a complete halt on any and all progress on the refit, right. And if you were to ignore the law, it would stoke tensions between the military and the government and potentially cause civil unrest."

"I hate martial law, you know that."

"Bill, I don't know if I'm ready..." Laura said doubtfully as she shook her head. After the standoff, Laura just wasn't sure of herself anymore. Captain Cutter slighted her offer to join with the Fleet, causing an error in her judgement because up to that point, she had always been so right about every challenge that came her way, and what happened at the Tomb of Athena only solidified that self-assuredness.

Then she betrayed Bill and indirectly caused the deaths of five men.

" _You're the President,"_ Bill stated. _"It's your job to lead this fleet through the good times as well as the bad. You made an error in judgement and people died because of it. It's not something you can forget or ignore. I can tell you that from personal experience."_ Bill said, showing that even he was fallible. _"All you can do is get back up and learn from your mistakes to do better for the people that are still with us."_

Laura took a breath, trying to ease herself. "Okay…I'll see what I can do."

 _"If you need an example to go by, Saul is currently on one of the Fleet's talk shows to put the military's backing behind Spirit of Fire and their AI."_ Bill said with a barely detectable note of humor.

Laura laughed out loud. "Goodness, how did you manage that?"

" _Like I said, fifty cannons go a long way. I'll talk to you later."_

"Goodbye, Admiral." Laura finished and hung up the phone to then quickly reach for the TV remote. She was not going to miss this.

 **MAY 6 2534 / 1123 HOURS**

 **219 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **GALACTICA**_ **BS-75**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"Hello, my name is James McManus and welcome to the Colonial Gang." He welcomed with a smile. "We have a very special guest with us today to speak on the issue of the Spirit of Fire's AI, none other than the very XO of the battlestar _Galactica_ himself, Colonel Saul Tigh."

McManus reached out and shook hands with the man in his ceremonial dress-greys. "Colonel, thank you for inviting me to the _Galactica_ and coming on the show."

"Happy to be here." Tigh replied stoically with a false enthusiasm. Internally, the man was loathing every minute of this, he hated the press and hated being in the spotlight even more. Bill would owe him for this one and more so did Cutter for defending that technological abomination aboard his ship.

"So… Colonel, what was your first reaction to the Thirteenth Tribe's usage of AIs?"

"Surprise… certainly surprise, and maybe even anger." Tigh said with a degree of honesty. "I -um…lost a lot of friends during the war to the cylons. But," Saul paused. "-after reviewing the facts, it is clear to me that what _Spirit of Fire_ has and what the Thirteenth Tribe have are not cylons and are not a threat to this fleet."

"And what are Admiral Adama's feelings on this development?" McManus asked.

"He and I came to the same conclusion, given the evidence Captain Cutter presented to us." Truthfully, Bill's attitude was one of reluctant acceptance. Cutter and by extension, the whole of the Thirteenth Tribe had AIs, and as painful of a pill that was to swallow, they had no other choice but to accept it.

"And this stance the military has taken in regard Thirteenth Tribe AIs has nothing to do with the massive refit _Galactica_ is receiving from _Spirit of Fire_?" McManus boldly challenged.

"The refit _Galactica_ is receiving has nothing to do with any politics." Colonel Tigh denied with a sneer. "It's about the protection of this fleet from the cylons!" Though in reality, it was the only reason Saul was on this dumb show.

"And can you comment on the kinds of refits _Galactica_ is receiving?"

Saul straightened his sash over his chest as his lips visibly tightened. "I'm afraid that's all classified at this time."

McManus grew a quizzical expression on his face. "What about having an AI, like Serina aboard the _Galactica_?"

Colonel Tigh took a moment before he replied. He wanted to say 'never' flat out and have the discussion be done but that kind of answer wasn't going to do anyone any favors. "I… can't speculate, I'm not in command of this ship."

"Okay, moving on then, Colonel." McManus said, looking down at his notes. "Recent polls have shown that fifty-seven percent of Colonial citizens disapprove of the Thirteenth Tribe's use of AI, with thirty percent approving and thirteen percent undecided. A lot of supporters for the AI, Serina, are saying that Miss Biers acted unprofessionally in trying to goad provocative answers from 'her', for lack of a better term. Do you agree with this stance?"

Tigh scoffed again, at least with this he could speak his mind. "The woman is a hatchet-artist, I think she's more concerned with her own career than the safety of this fleet. You remember how she tried to pin me to the wall for what happened on the _Gideon_."

"You mean the Gideon Massacre?"

Saul's gaze fell to the floor and took a breath before he looked back up. " _Gideon_ … was a tragedy."

"One that happened under your command, Colonel." McManus reminded seriously.

That brought on a look of agitation on Saul's face. "It was a fraked situation," he stated forthright. "The president superseded Adama's command and was thrown in the brig. Then to make matters worse, the cylons tried to have him assassinated using who we thought was one of our own." Saul said, referring to Boomer. Saul still had nightmares about standing over his Bill, his best friend at death's door as everyone screamed at and criticized Saul for not being the man Bill was. "I declared martial law because there was no other alternative. I ordered those men to retrieve the supplies the crew of the _Gideon_ was withholding. But what happened on that ship was a result of high stress and mob mentality." Saul said definitively with his forefinger jammed down into an imaginary tabletop. "No one person is to blame. That's the real story, not D'Anna Biers' attempted _witch hunt_." he said distastefully. "Captain Cutter was smart to face her first before she could start another."

"And what is the military's relationship with Captain Cutter?" McManus asked curiously. "With the recent crew exchanges and the presence of UNSC Marines on battlestar _Pegasus_ , many are speculating if the military has become subservient to _Spirit of Fire_."

That one Saul wasn't sure of at all at the moment, but thankfully, before he could answer, Dee's voice blared over the intercom. "XO to CIC, XO to CIC."

"I'm afraid, that's where we'll have to call it." Tigh said as he began to stand. "I suggest you get moving as well. And as for your question, close ties do not mean we're under anyone's heel. It's about the security of the Fleet, now excuse me."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **GALACTICA**_

 **HANGAR DECK**

"I don't understand, what do you mean, I can't come?" Bill heard an older man's voice say as he entered the hangar deck in preparation to depart _Galactica_ for _Spirit of Fire_. Around the deck was abuzz with all manner of personnel preparing to board Raptors and Pelicans on the deck elevators. Looking down the hangar, he saw one of Cutter's Pelicans sitting on one of the heavy deck elevators with its troop bay full of deckhands and maintenance equipment for the Vipers. Standing at the rear of the troop bay was a UNSC airman Bill recognized as Major Heidegger with his hand out, stopping a man in black from climbing on board.

"Can I help you?" Bill shouted as he closed the distance.

The man turned, revealing an older gentleman with pale skin a few inches shorter than Bill, now looking very relieved to see him.

"Oh, thank goodness. Admiral, could you please tell this… _man_ ," he said, restraining himself from an expletive. "-to let me aboard, I have been arguing with him for the past ten minutes!"

Bill looked up to Major Heidegger standing stubbornly at the mouth of the bay. "What seems to be the problem Major?"

"Admiral, this man is refusing to step away from the Pelican and keeping us from taking off. I've told him again and _again_." The major said more intensely as the other man rolled his eyes with an exaggerated shake of the head. "-that he is not on the list of authorized personnel." The airman finished as he held up a computer tablet with bright green text glowing on its screen.

"What is your occupation aboard _Galactica_?" Bill asked.

"I am a priest, Admiral. That's something I think the crew of _Galactica_ are going to need on a _godsless_ ship like theirs." He said with an accusatory backward glance at Heidegger that brought a scowl to the major's face.

Bill kept his expression neutral as he responded. "I apologize, Father."

"It's Cavil, Father John Cavil." The man in black interrupted.

Bill continued. "I apologize, but Captain Cutter is very selective about who he lets aboard his ship and has requested that only essential personnel be allowed aboard _Spirit of Fire_."

"And I'm not?" Father Cavil asked indignantly which rubber Bill in just the wrong way.

"Sorry, but you'll have to stay aboard _Pegasus_ , along with everyone else. I'll have to ask you to step away from the craft so the major can get underway."

The Father made a disappointed face, then exhaled. "Alright, if you say so, Admiral." He said reluctantly before walking off in a huff.

"Thank you, Admiral." With a grateful nod Heidegger spoke.

"You're cleared to proceed, Major." Bill offered the major a salute which the airman returned respectfully before Bill broke it off.

"I'll see you aboard _Spirit of Fire_ , Admiral." Heidegger bid farewell. "Gunnarson, close the rear hatch, begin pre-flight." He ordered to his pilot as he then dawned his helmet. Bill turned to leave and began walking down the deck to his Raptor, which wasn't much of a walk down the deck.

Truthfully, he was reluctant to transfer over temporarily to _Spirit of Fire_ when he had _Pegasus_ but the crew needed the experience with the technology and systems the UNSC technicians were going to install. The last thing they needed was a sharp learning curve with the computers if an attack came from the cylons. Being on _Spirit of Fire_ also meant he would have more direct oversight of what they were doing to _Galactica_ and Bill also didn't like the idea of being too far away from his ship. It simply felt… _wrong_ to him. But foremost in his reasoning was Captain Cutter. They had met formally many times since their initial rocky introduction half a month ago and while Bill could tell he was a good officer and well respected by his crew, they had seldom had more informal conversations that didn't pertain to military of Fleet matters. Cutter had played it all straight so far but Bill couldn't help but feel he was withholding something from him. Or maybe the cylons repeated attacks and acts of espionage were driving Bill into becoming a paranoid head-case. But still, he needed to know.

Coming up to a pad where two Raptors were waiting for him, he saw a squad of Marines walk onto the deck, leading the copy of Sharon Valerri out in handcuffs. "Admiral," she addressed him somewhat nervously. "Are we going somewhere?"

"We're going to be over on _Spirit of Fire_ for a few days while _Galactica_ undergoes the most serious portion of the refit." Bill turned to Sergeant Hadrian leading them. "Get her on board."

"Yes sir." Hadrian answered as she and the Marines boarded the Raptor while Bill made his way to the other.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

Shortly thereafter, the Raptors left the flight pod, joined by a quartet of Pelicans loaded with Galactica's seasoned crew. This was the second to last wave outbound to _Spirit of Fire_. That colossal ship was positioned directly under _Galactica_ in a belly-to-belly formation that would expedite the refit process. However, Bill noticed the Raptor was not taking a direct flight path to the support ship and instead was flying directly port.

" _Galactica_ , this is Raptor Seven-One-Eight, we are in position." Ensign Esrin reported back.

" _Galactica copies, standby."_ Bill heard Dee say over the wireless which piqued his curiosity all the more.

"Lieutenant, what's going on?"

"Admiral," Lieutenant Finnegan answered confidently. "If you'll direct your attention outside the window."

Then it all came together and Bill understood what was going on and stood himself to peer out the narrow window on the Raptor's door. Looks like Saul wanted to give Bill a good send-off.

" _Vipers! Launch! Launch!"_ Came the call from Petty Officer Blake back in the CIC.

From the flight pod's launch tubes rocketed out the metallic grey Mk. VII and resplendent red and white Mk. II Vipers, no doubt lead by Starbuck. In an alternating staggered sequence that Bill judged proudly was perfectly timed, the small, nimble fighters were birthed into the black. Gods, it had been far too long since he'd actually gotten to see a launch, he'd almost forgotten what it looked like. As the Vipers formed up into a standard crisscross intercept line formation Bill checked his watch. Just under ten seconds. Had _Galactica_ still been with the Colonial Fleet, Bill's pilots would have set a good example for the other battlestars to follow.

"Lieutenant, send Colonel Tigh and Starbuck my regards. That was a damn fine launch." He complimented.

"Copy that, sir."

With the honorary 'battlestar salute' completed, the Vipers broke off by squadrons and began banking around to begin landing procedures on Spirit of Fire's main flight decks. Bill's Raptor followed suit and flipped downward to approach the UNSC ship that from Bill's perspective, appeared to be laying on its back. Bill glanced back to the underside of _Galactica_ where her belly had been opened like it was undergoing surgery and he couldn't help but worry for her as he absently touched his uniform over the surgical scar that ran down his chest.

 **MAY 6 2534 / 1203 HOURS**

 **219 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE CFV-88**

 **HANGAR DECK-04**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

The Raptor's hatch opened and Bill stepped out about the same time as Sergeant Hadrian's Marines led the cylon prisoner out of theirs. On the deck, Captain Cutter was there waiting with Spartan Red Team waiting at his side, it appeared he wasn't taking any chances with a cylon aboard his ship. This time however, they weren't carrying the concerningly large weapons they had weilded when they boarded _Pegasus_ , instead they had more reasonable infantry weapons such as the oddly designed shotgun cradled in Spartan Jerome's arms.

"Welcome back aboard, Admiral." Cutter greeted amenably as he walked up to the Raptor to meet Bill.

"Thank you, Captain." Bill replied. "Have you made the appropriate accommodations for the prisoner?" he said with a sideways glance at the humanoid cylon who was beholding the Spartans with wide eyes filled with a mix of awe and fear.

"You don't have to worry about a thing, Admiral. She'll be in good hands." Cutter assured with a tone of full confidence in his voice. "Now if you'll have your Marines join Red Team, they'll escort the prisoner to her cell."

Bill nodded in agreement. The less time she was out, the less likely something bad was going to happen. "Sergeant Hadrian." Bill prompted.

"Yes, Admiral." the Master Sergeant replied. "Do you want me to leave any Marines with you?"

"That won't be necessary, Sergeant." Bill said briefly.

Hadrian gave a curt nod. "Yes sir."

The two officers then watched their men depart together with the cylon in tow until the door the door they left through closed behind.

"Well then Admiral," Cutter said. "Would you like to join me in my quarters while we wait for Colonel Tigh to arrive?"

"That would be fine, Captain. Thank you."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 **UNSC SPIRIT OF FIRE**

 **CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS**

In James' quarters, they were again sat in the pair of leather upholstered chairs in the corner of the room with tumblers of bourbon sitting on the table between them.

"I have a question for you Captain." Admiral Adama put forth as he raised his glass to his mouth for a sip and James began to follow suit.

"What's it about, Admiral?" asked James as he then too took a sip of his bourbon.

"It's about _Spirit of Fire_. I'm curious why your navy would refit a non-combat vessel such as her into a full warship. It seems like a drastic measure if you ask me." Adama asked and James could tell the man suspected something. He couldn't tell Adama about the Covenant yet, even in confidence, the threat the Covenant posed might prompt the Fleet to abandon _Spirit of Fire_ and take with them the invaluable FTL drives they carried. Thankfully, James had the truth of history on his side in this case.

"It's a question of logistics, Admiral. We have several classes of mainline carriers. There's the Epoch-class which are about Spirit of Fire's size but can't operate in-atmosphere and serve more as a carrier for squadrons of attack fighters. Then there's its little brother, the Eion-class light carriers that are phasing out the older Athens-classes. Then we have the Orion-class assault carriers that are a little over half our size. And we even have a good dozen supercarriers that are nearly twice Spirit of Fire's size and fitted with a pair of Super-MACs that can kill a ship from thousands of kilometers away." That figure made Adama lower his drink as he looked up to James. "Of those, only the Eions and the Orion-class assault carriers can operate in-atmosphere. The Eions can only carry a fraction of the force an Orion can put into play, and most naval commanders prefer to keep the Eions up in orbit."

"That still doesn't quite answer my question, Captain." Adama said.

"Like I said, it's a question of logistics. The area of space the UNSC controls is very vast compared to the Colonies and even with slipspace drives, it can take weeks or even months of traveling in the outer colonies to get from one planet to another. And capital ships like the Orions are very expensive. So to cut costs, the UNSC introduced the Phoenix-class Support Ship to take the strain off." James explained with a raised hand gesturing to the ceiling as an inference to the rest of the ship.

Admiral Adama looked down to his glance in deep thought as he then spoke. "Seems like that's a lot of firepower to bring to bear against a few rebellious planets."

James leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his glass of bourbon grasped in both hands. "In truth, Admiral." James began. "-the Insurrection was more serious than I've been letting on. For nearly thirty years, multiple factions in the outer colonies rebelled against Earth and the inner colonies in a full-blown civil war that costed us millions of lives. It's still going on to a lesser extent, led by terrorist groups and underground factions. I didn't want to say anything officially up to this point because I didn't want the cylons to learn of any weaknesses they could potentially exploit."

Adama made a deep hum in his throat. "I see. Thank you for telling me, Captain."

The door to James' quarters opened for Colonel Tigh to then step through, prompting both James and Adama to stand and greet him.

The Admiral was the first to shake his hand. "Thanks for the sendoff, Saul." Adama said with true emotion, letting down that stoic mask for just a second.

"Ah, well you know an old sentimental fool like me couldn't just stand by without giving the sendoff you deserve, you've earned it." Tigh tried to excuse as informally as he could but Adama held on to the Colonel's hand for just a meaningful moment longer, giving James the impression these men were more than just the ranking officers that served on the same ship, they were close friends as well and he was curious to learn that story, though perhaps later.

"Thank you." Adama said and then let Tigh's hand go for James to approach.

"Welcome aboard Colonel." James greeted as he and Tigh shook hands.

"Well, thank you for having me, Captain." With a polite smile and nod of the chin Tigh greeted in return.

"It's me who should be thanking you, Colonel, for going on that talk show to support Serina and _Spirit of Fire_ , that probably wasn't an easy thing for you to do."

Colonel Tigh took on veil of humble acceptance that James could tell he was masking his true feelings behind. "It was a… small matter, Captain. I was happy to do it. Especially since I was able to call out that damn D'Anna Biers for the con artist she is." He said with a vindictive smile.

James offered a confident smile in the corner of his mouth in kind as he found it refreshing that he wasn't the only one who found that reporter's attitude irritating as well. "Why don't you take my seat, Colonel." James said with a glance back to the chair he'd been sitting in. "And I'll get you a drink."

"Appreciated, Captain." Tigh responded with an enthused smile at his offer. James went to his liquor cabinet and grabbed a tumbler along with his half-filled bottle of bourbon and returned to the two Colonial officers.

"Colonel, I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine, Mr. Jim Beam." James said as he then poured three-fingers of bourbon for the man and left the bottle on the table for the three of them to share while he retrieved another chair from out behind his desk.

Colonel Tigh made a satisfied hum as he tried his first sip. "Fraking hell, that's some good stuff you have here. I'll have to stop by again soon, if you don't mind."

"You'd be welcome, Colonel." James obliged. While normally James was a friendly guy, he was acting more so for the Admiral and Colonel to establish closer connections to the men for their continued support. James hated being disingenuous, but this was an unusual situation and the only alternative was to hold the entire fleet hostage which as in addition to being very risky, went against his own moral code. He wasn't going to allow himself to become a warlord.

James sat himself back down with the two officers and picked up his drink.

Admiral Adama cleared his throat noisily from his prolonged silence. "If you don't mind me asking, Captain." with a more moderate tone, Adama began. "What exactly will our duties be while we're aboard _Spirit of Fire_? I'm not one for keeping my hands idle."

"I'm glad you asked. Returning to an earlier topic, there was a thought that stuck with me at the end of the interview you were on, Colonel. The reporter asked what our relationship was, the military and _Spirit of Fire_." James clarified. "I would like it to be one of mutual cooperation. Give and give, both ways. You gave me your public support in the fleet and the ability to make crew exchanges and in return, I'm giving you the most powerful battlestar the Colonial Fleet has ever seen." James offered as example and to remind Admiral Adama of what he was getting to quell any suspicious thoughts he might be having.

"And so, Admiral. While you and Colonel Tigh are aboard my ship, I will give you and your staff the command of the secondary bridge atop of the vessel, from there you will have the authority to run all air operations aboard _Spirit of Fire_ how you see fit." He said, much to Colonel Tigh's clear surprise and even Adama had inperceptably cocked en eyebrow just slightly. "Lieutenant Colonel McCullen will report directly to the both of you until _Galactica_ is ready to resume standard operations. If you have any ideas how Spirit of Fire might better help the Fleet, now's the time to try them out." It was a bold offer, even risky. But it was a chance James had to take if this alliance was to last and _Spirit of Fire_ was to cement itself as a part of this fleet. "It's only fair, seeing how Colonel Shaw has taken over Marine operations aboard _Pegasus_." James then added to reinforce his proposed 'give and give' philosophy.

"That's a bold offer, Captain." Adama said, putting James' thoughts into words. "You're really going to put the lives of your pilots in another man's hands?"

"Cooperation is about compromise, Admiral. And reading the after-action reports from Galactica's past engagements, you didn't get to where you are by greasing palms." James said as he looked the older man in the eye. "You told me you were a pilot during the war, and looking at your combat history file, Colonel, I know you were one too. That means you know well the kinds of mindsets pilots have and the kinds of stress they go through. Your tactical expertise with the cylons bring to the table an understanding my pilots don't have. In short, you're the perfect fit for the job if we want that ace Raider out there dead before either of us lose any more pilots to him."

Adama contemplated James' offer for a long moment as he took a deeper drink of his bourbon. "I accept, Captain. But if it's all the same, I'll clear any major changes with you before I implement them. Spirit is still your ship." Adama offered as a courtesy James wasn't expecting.

"I appreciate the courtesy, Admiral. Thank you." James then grabbed the bottle of bourbon and refilled everyone's glasses with a couple fingers each and Tigh nearly drained half of his away almost immediately with great satisfaction evident on his face.

"Yeah, that's the stuff."

James chuckled. "Christ, Colonel. If you like this, I'll break out my good stash of scotch for you once Galactica's finished and we'll have ourselves a real party." He laughed and even Adama cracked a smile on his normally stony face.

As the three men came down from their temporary elation, James leaned back in his chair. "There is one other matter I wanted to bring up with you Admiral, and I think you're going to like it."

"Go ahead." Adama replied before taking another sip.

"Right now, down in the pilots' bunks, I got twenty-six airmen trained to fly ground support missions with no _ground_ to _support_. They're used to flying attack VTOLs but those aren't going to be of much use out here in a vacuum." James set up. "Rather than continue to waste space and grow fat, I'd like to send them over to _Pegasus_ to begin Viper flight training and have them stationed aboard _Galactica_ once we get starboard flight pod operational, and we will get it operational." James promised.

"Gods, that's nearly two full squadrons right off the bat!" Colonel Tigh commented with some shock.

"Your airmen would be more than welcome aboard, Captain."

"And if you give my maintainers some time with your Vipers while they're aboard, I'll give you back the best version of the craft you'll ever see. Better computer, avionics, improved guns, and inertial dampeners." He added as icing on the cake. "Meaning that they'll be able to pull off maneuvers your pilots could only dream of until now. Bring them up to standard just like we're doing for _Galactica_."

Adama set his now empty tumbler on the table. "That's a tempting offer but I'd like for your maintainers to consult with Peter Laird, he's the deck chief over on the _Pegasus_."

James nodded. "Yes, I think I read his file. He used to be an aeronautical engineer, right?" James asked and received a nod from Adama in return. "That poor man didn't deserve what Admiral Cain did to him. Sure, I'll let him come aboard so he can make sure none of the proposed upgrades interfere with existing systems." James then pulled back his sleeve to check his father's old watch. "I apologize gentlemen, but I think it's time I should get back to the bridge. Just ask Serina and she'll direct you up to the secondary bridge and you can take over command of air operations when you're ready."

As James rose out of his seat, Adama was just as quick to do the same. "One last thing, Captain." The Admiral said, grabbing his attention. "I'm sure you've noticed by now that our cylon prisoner is…pregnant."

"Not hard to miss, Admiral. I was curious about the story behind that."

"The cylons for whatever reason are incapable of reproduction, so instead they've been trying crossbreeding with humans through various methods. The child she is carrying is the result."

"I'm not sure if I should be horrified or fascinated." James admitted.

"Sure as hell freaks me the frak out." Tigh grumbled.

Adama glanced over to the Colonel before returning to James. "The President and I have come to the decision that while we are not prepared to kill it, we cannot allow the prisoner to keep the child. We don't know what her plans are for it, but we do know the cylons want it, which means it's bad for us. When the child is born, we intend to hide it amongst the civilian population and fake its death so the cylons might have less reason to pursue us."

James hadn't expected to be drawn into a conspiracy with Admiral Adama but kept his emotions tempered behind a passive face. "You really think the cylons know about it?" he asked. "The rest of the civilian fleet doesn't."

"I'd rather not take chances and assume they do." Adama answered briefly.

James hummed in understanding as he contemplated the implications of the conspiracy. "Have you arranged for anyone to take care of the child?"

"Not as of yet, it's still too soon, but I wanted to inform you if there was a possibility to keep it here on _Spirit of Fire_ , since your ship seems to run tighter security."

"I'll consider it, Admiral." James answered noncommittally.

"Thank you."

"Well then… Admiral, Colonel." James then bid farewell to the two officers as he shook their hands.

"Thank you for the drink, Captain." Tigh thanked before he and Admiral Adama left, leaving James alone in his quarters in almost complete silence. James was about to place his desk chair back where it belonged when he then paused, crossing his arms over the chair's back as a look of deep contemplation became etched on his face as he mulled things over. He was fairly sure he'd driven off any suspicions Admiral Adama might have had but James wasn't expecting to be drawn into a convoluted conspiracy to kidnap an unborn child. On the one hand, it showed Adama was trusting him more despite Spirit of Fire's occupation of _Pegasus_. These favors he was doing for Adama were buying him the man's trust and cooperation, however, James had no idea how he could, or even should tell Adama that Spirit of Fire's navigational data was all but useless so far out in uncharted space. If that got out, his ship would lose any and all support within the Fleet for certain and plummet morale amongst the civilians.

Then there was the question of the Covenant.

There was no guarantee that the Fleet wasn't sailing straight toward Covenant Space and James wrestled with the idea of informing Adama about the threat they posed. He had a right to know, should the worst happen, but there was the potential panic that could create. A threat worse than the cylons? Yes, James thought to himself sarcastically. That would go over _very_ well.

No, he couldn't tell Adama that, it was still too soon. Right now, everyone needed to stay focused on the immediate threat of the cylons, and get _Galactica_ up to par or as close to that as _Spirit of Fire_ could manage. That's what mattered.

 **Author's Note: Again, not much action outside politics and social maneuvering aside from the ODST's wakeup call on Pegasus, but with Adama at the helm to take over flight-ops against Scar and the Raiders, you can bet there'll be a good old dogfight in part 4. I decided to throw in Rya Kibby's story in as an added factor to the political tension because I didn't want to ignore that plot point from the show. This is Battlestar Galactica in the Halo universe first and foremost and not an endless action fic. This part was more about moving the players into position, the fleet's reaction to Serina, and showing the aftermath of the Pegasus Standoff. On the topic of Easter eggs, I hope you all caught that Cavil was the Man in Black, aka: the devil.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: I made a slight mistake back in Chapter 4, stating the payload for an Archer Missile was 2 megatons when I meant to write kilotons. Likewise, the yield for the ASGM-193 is 20 kilotons, not megatons. Whoops. And sorry this took so long, but I hope a double-length chapter makes up for it.**

 **Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire**

 **Episode 3**

 **Rampant: Part 4**

 _ **With**_

 _Gideon Emery as Captain James Cutter_

 _Faye Kingslee as Ellen Anders_

 _Courtenay Taylor as Serina_

 _Christopher Eccleston as Lieutenant Colonel Christian McCullen_

 _Michael Peña as Petty Officer Lukas Blake_

 _Sam Elliott as Chief Engineer Andrew Prescott_

 _Joseph Gordon Levitt as Lieutenant Ward 'Warlock' Breckenridge_

 _Alice Braga as Ensign Sophia 'Kick' Nascimento_

 _Nicholas Hoult as Airman First Class Evan 'Chugs' Chugainov_

 _James McAvoy as Senior Airman Hank Donnelly_

 _Aaron Eckhart as Master Sergeant Michael Bishop_

 _Tom Hardy as Corporal Jan Frost_

 _John Boyega as Specialist Daniel Hudson_

 **MAY 8 2534 / 1209 HOURS**

 **221 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD**

 **OPERATION: FOXHUNT**

 **PATROL FLIGHT: SIX-ECHO**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **49,549 SURVIVORS**

" _Spirit of Fire_ , this is Starbuck checking in, no sign of hostiles yet." Kara reported from her Viper. Both she and Kat were again paired up with Warlock's Longsword for the asteroid field patrol, but this time they had something special planned for Scar. Every day one patrol or another came in contact with that particular Raider, he'd try to ambush or draw the patrol into a trap but it always ended in a stalemate with him jumping away at the last second. And while neither the Spirit or Galactica's air wings hadn't lost any more pilots beyond a few injuries, their aircraft were taking a beating. Three Vipers were in need of major repairs to their engines or wings, and were now in the hands of the UNSC Air Force maintainers to modify them into what everyone was calling the Mark 2.5 or 7.5 Vipers. The Longswords too had seen significant damages, Scar seemed hellbent on taking at least one of them out as four craft had their cockpit canopies shot to all hell and two more with one of their engines all shot up. But now they had the Old Man taking over flight ops and he had made a pretty good plan, with Kara's assistance of course. Admiral Adama had also managed to convince Captain Cutter to take _Spirit of Fire_ out away from the civilian fleet into the outskirts of the asteroid field near the Majahual's location with _Galactica_ under tow of Spirit's Heron heavy dropships as to continue the refit while still conducting air operations, this way reinforcements could be dispatched far quicker. And so far, the lives of several pilots had been saved because of it.

 _"Spirit of Fire copies your last, Starbuck."_ Came Dee's crystal-clear voice through the wireless. _"Maintain course and keep your eyes open."_

"Copy that."

 _"Spirit, ignore last!"_ Warlock interrupted suddenly. _"Radar contact, tally two Raiders, two o'clock high! Range is seven-point-five, closing!"_

"What the frak? How the _hell_ did they get in so close?" Starbuck said to herself as she looked up out of her cockpit, spotting the vague outline of two Raiders coming around a large asteroid that was the size of Pegasus' bow section, with the light of the system's distant star making their crescent bodies glimmer silver in the distance.

" _Worry about that later!"_ Warlock was quick to reply.

"Copy!" Kara signaled back. "Kat, stay on his wing, I'll hang back and provide cover!"

" _Roger that!"_

The Longsword and Kat's Viper kicked their noses up at the Raiders and immediately accelerated to combat speed, followed shortly by Starbuck who lagged two seconds behind.

" _Targets locked, good tone!"_ Starbuck heard Kick signal over the wireless. _"Cutthroat-Seven: Fox two!"_ Two fiery arrows rocketed forth from the Longsword's belly and for a brief second, Kara actually thought they could have hit before the missiles randomly veered off.

" _That's ECM!"_ Warlock called out. _"Kat, get your fangs out, we're going in!"_

" _Yeah, now you're talking!"_ Kat replied enthusiastically.

" _Spirit of Fire, be advised,"_ came Senior Airman Donnelly's voice over the wireless as he hailed back to the ship. _"Enemy has engaged electronic counter measures. Siren is in play, repeat: Siren is in play."_

" _Solid copy, Cutthroat-Seven."_ Admiral Adama replied directly. _"Continue to engage."_

" _Roger!"_

The Warlock dodged a stream of blue tracers from one of the Raiders with a quarter-roll that maneuvered the Longsword's wing out of the line of fire while Kat's Viper bucked up to avoid the second Raider's burst of fire as well. The first Raider met a quick end as Kick retaliated with a fifty-millimeter shell that carved the it in two. Kat returned the favor as well against her own Raider, her Vipers streams of orange tracers narrowly missing but forcing the Raider to break off its intercept course.

" _He's bugging out, I'm in pursuit!"_ Kat gunned her Viper's engines as she then gave chase with Warlock's Longsword not far behind. _"You're mine, you bastard."_

" _Roger Kat, we got you covered!"_

Meanwhile in the rear, Starbuck was keeping her head on a swivel. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe was going to drop and she'd be damned if Kara was going to lose someone on her watch.

 _BEE-BEEP!_ The upgraded DRADIS came to life, identifying a Raider's signature at her ten o'clock high, coming right out of the sun in an attempt to mask its approach. "Got you, you bastard." Kara said through gritted teeth, knowing without a doubt it was Scar.

She looked up through the polarized visor of the UNSC Air Force helmet she was wearing, looking Scar straight in his glowing red eye on his messed-up face. Scar fired, thinking Starbuck was blinded and just another nugget for him to prey upon. If the Raider had any recognizable human emotions, Scar would have been sorely disappointed when Starbuck triggered her engines and RCS thrusters to roll out of the way and then gunned her engines into a hard burn that would have made any other Viper pilot pass out were they piloting a normal Viper. But Kara's fighter wasn't just a normal Viper as hers was the very first Mk. 7.5 to be rolled out of Spirit of Fire's maintenance pits and was fully equipped with the UNSC's inertial dampeners.

Kara pulled off another maneuver that normally she'd be unable to perform, using the Viper's RCS system in tandem with her main engines at full thrust, she pulled a tight diagonal curve around that put her right behind Scar's ass.

"Rules have changed, Scar. You're mine." Kara grinned hungrily.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

Some distance away, a single Longsword was holding position with its engines powered down and attached to its belly were a pair of Mk. II Vipers, piloted by Hotdog and Duck who were anguishing in their boredom as they waited for a call that may or may not come.

Hotdog snapped to when he heard Admiral Adama's voice on the line.

" _Strike group six, this is the Admiral."_

" _Cutthroat-One copies, Admiral. What's the word?"_ Lieutenant Colonel McCullen answered from his Longsword.

" _We've zeroed the location of Siren inside our probe net and you're the strike group closest to its position, we're transmitting target data now. Find it and kill it."_ Adama ordered.

" _Roger that, Admiral."_ McCullen confirmed before he closed the channel. _"Alright lads, you all ready to go hunting?"_

" _Hell yes."_ Was Duck's immediate, if understated answer.

"Let's scrap this toaster, Celtic." Hotdog eagerly replied.

Through his feet on the floor of the raptor, Hotdog could feel the hum of the Longsword's fusion engines waking from the low-power state, and he glanced over at Duck sitting left of him, sharply shaking his head side to side to pop the joints in his neck in preparation. Hotdog turned his internal helmet light back on and gave the other pilot a thumbs-up, which was returned as the Longsword began accelerating forward.

Hotdog checked his DRADIS. He wasn't in one of the Mk. 2.5 Vipers or a 7.5 like Starbuck, but the UNSC maintainers had upgraded the DRADIS software as best they could without outright replacing the computers like they were doing in the rest of the .5's, giving Hotdog a bit of an edge in a dogfight as he had less of a chance of being ambushed.

" _We're fifty klicks and closing!"_ Celtic advised. _"Force disposition indicates two Raiders and a single Heavy Raider likely acting as their AWACS and ECM aircraft."_

" _That's our Siren."_ Duck unnecessarily clarified.

" _Our stealth signature coupled with the asteroid field should mask our approach until we get within twenty klicks. From there, I want you two to disengage and go after those Raiders."_

"Hotdog copies, Celtic."

" _Instructions confirmed."_ Duck replied.

The Longsword weaved through the asteroids like a manta combined with the agility of a bird of prey as the distance closed rapidly. Hotdog's right hand tightened around his flight stick while the index finger of his left hovered over the magnetic release on the left side control panel.

" _Closing on drop point. Stand by."_

The solid black Longsword edged around one more asteroid before they were through the 20-K line and there was nothing left in between them and the Raiders.

" _Vipers, you are cleared to release and engage the Raiders!"_ Celtic gave the order at last.

Hotdog leveraged the throttle up before his finger tapped down on the magnetic release to ease his immediate deceleration when he fell off the larger craft, as did Duck. There was an immediate jarring jerk as the Viper fell free like taking a car too fast through a dip in the road, but Hotdog compensated and pushed the throttle to full, matching the Longsword's already impressive speed.

Glancing down at the DRADIS, Hotdog could see that the Raider escorts had spotted them. "They know we're coming. The Raiders just broke off and are heading our way."

" _I'm taking the Longsword ahead, we can't let that AWACS bird get away. Cover me if those Raiders get on my tail."_ Celtic ordered.

It sounded risky to Hotdog, but couldn't disagree, the entire reason they and the other strike groups like them were out there was to nail that Heavy Raider and Scar. Which, knowing Starbuck, was probably duking it out with him right now.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

Kara gritted her teeth as another stream of red-hot tracers poured from her Viper's guns, only to have Scar jink away at the last second. The Raider darted away toward a tight cluster of smaller asteroids, the remnants of one of Spirit's mining ops and Kara was quick to get on Scar's tail. Now that Scar knew her Viper was far more agile than usual, he was planning to counter that by luring her into a more confined area. She kept on him, firing one-second bursts to conserve her ammunition. Scar made a sudden bank right, toward a house-sized asteroid less than a kilometer away. What was he trying? It almost looked like Scar was about to collide with it when at the last second, he rolled left around it and went out of view. Thinking that Scar was trying to goad her into following him while he swung around behind her to get behind her, Kara went right.

For a split second, she saw nothing in the place where she expected the Raider to be and instinctually rolled with her RCS thrusters, putting her just out of the way of the blue-hot rounds that cut through the space over her head, followed shortly by Scar.

Starbuck grimaced and then pulled back on the stick to arc around, as did Scar who braked with his RCS systems before their arcs intercepted. The two entered a flat-scissors as each tried to get on the tail of the other and their flight paths braided for three tense arcs and attempted but failed intercepts. As Starbuck entered the apex of her fourth arc, she cut her primary thrust and maneuvered into a drift with her RCS thrusters, a move that normally would have killed her from the sudden shift in the directional g-forces, putting Scar dead in her sights. Noticing this, he tried to break off, but not before Scar took four shots to his port wing, close to the outer edge where Kick had shorn part of it off with a 50mm round from her and Warlock's Longsword.

"YE-AH!" Kara celebrated as Scar began tumbling nose over tail, the bastard never even made it to where he was going. " _Spirit of Fire_ , this is Starbuck, Scar is down." She said with great satisfaction as she reoriented her Viper to head toward Kat and Warlock. "Repeat: Scar is down. I'm hea-" Kara began to say before she was rocked in her seat by something hitting her Viper. Without thinking, she slammed forward on the accelerator as a guttural grunt left her mouth. "-the frak?!" How the hell did another Raider sneak up on her? Kara used her thrusters and RCS to get out of the way and swing around quickly, dodging another burst meant to finish her off. And as the Raider passed, Kara caught a split-second look, spotting the same damage on the Raider's wing from moments ago and Kara realized with astonishment that Scar had the intellect to know how to fake his own death-spin to throw her off.

BEE-BEEP BEE-BEEP BEE-BEEP. Her DRADIS cried out over the wail of the Viper's emergency siren informing her that she'd lost both primary and secondary hydraulics.

" _This is Cutthroat-Seven, eight more Raiders just jumped in, my position!"_ Warlock reported, followed shortly by McCullen.

" _Spirit, this is Strike-Six, reporting eight more bogies here as well."_

"Gods damn it, what the hell is going on?" Kara asked herself as she turned her Viper around and made for the cluster of shattered asteroids Scar had been trying to get to earlier. Kara made as random maneuvers as she could to keep the fire off her but the Viper's controls were sluggish when she tried to move right and noticed her right wing was shot up, and with it the RCS thrusters it had on it.

"Shit!" she cursed, partially at herself for letting her guard down.

" _All fighters, this is the Admiral. Reinforcements are en-route from other Strike units, hold out as best you can."_

" _Kat, break off!"_ Warlock instructed. _"We can't take nine Raiders head on."_

" _But-"_

" _Just get on my wing, I got an idea."_

Streaks of brilliant blue signaled that Scar had returned but now they were inside the tighter cluster where there was barely two kilometers between anything, evidenced by the pattering of pebble-sized stones against the Viper's hull and canopy. Squaring her shoulders and taking a breath, Starbuck put her game face on. "Alright Scar, both of us have frakked-up wings now, it's all down to which of us is the better pilot." Kara kicked her aft-ventral RCS thrusters to point her at an upward angle and accelerated toward a mess of tightly packed debris drifting lazily around in random fashions.

Kara's lips were tight and her feet working on the yaw thrusters with constant little taps almost as much as her thumb was working the buttons for the RCS thrusters on the face of her flight stick as she maneuvered through the dangerous labyrinth of ragged tumbling rocks. Scar's fire had ceased but she knew he was still back there, either steering clear of the deadly gauntlet no pilot but Starbuck would be as bat-shit genius enough to enter or he'd gotten lost in it himself. But he _was_ still out there, Kara could feel it in her gut. Gods, Starbuck wasn't sure who had it worse right now, her or Warlock and Kat.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

" _So when's this bright idea of yours gonna happen?"_ Kat shouted under the stress of enemy fire whizzing over her head.

"See that weird goddamn rock ahead?" Ward replied, pointing out the one that had the odd shape roughly of a football.

" _Yeah?"_

"We're gonna go around it and hopefully take out a few of these assholes tailing us. But first, I need you to lower your landing gear."

" _You want me to what?"_ Kat replied incredulously.

"Don't worry, it's just like mid-air refueling." Ward said reassuringly. "I mean, I've never done it personally, since all of our birds are nuclear, but if grandpappy Breckenridge could do it, how hard could it be?"

Kat muttered something under her breath that Ward took was nothing too flattering about himself. _"Alright, fine. What do you want me to do?"_

"Like I said, lower your gear, then lock your magnetics to our topside. This ain't gonna work if I can't put some distance between us and those Raiders." Warlock explained. "On my mark, I'm gonna hold my bird steady enough for you to get on. Chugs will guide you in with the external cameras but you'll have just three seconds to do it or the Raiders are going to tear my engines apart. You copy?"

" _Copy, on your mark."_ Kat confirmed.

"Three… two… one… mark!" Ward steadied out the Longsword and kept a constant speed. One second in and he could already hear the sharp clanks and dull thuds of Raider fire pouring over his bird. "Sorry, girl." He muttered under his breath.

"Kat, you're looking good." Chugainov said as he guided the Viper down. "Move half a meter to your left and begin descending." As he said so a burst of fire cut under Kat's Viper, barely missing her.

" _Frak!"_

"Kat, time's up! It's now or never!" Ward yelled.

Kat then fired her topside RCS thrusters in a powerful burst of speed that collided the Viper so hard against the Longsword, it jostled Ward in his seat and were it not for the harness he was strapped into, he would have been thrown right out of it.

"She's on!" Chugainov shouted back to Ward from his station.

"Really? I didn't notice!"

From his right, Kick looked over at him with a tense look on her face. "Just get us the hell out of here."

"Right. Accelerating!"

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

The Longsword accelerated forward as it began to outrun the nine trailing Raiders. They received orders from the Heavy Raider to alter their flight path to the right side of the asteroid where it was predicted the Longsword was going to swoop around and attempt to reengage them. Two more human strike teams of Longswords and accompanying Vipers were inbound but would not arrive for six more minutes. It was calculated the Raiders would have enough time to destroy the two human craft before they would need to jump away to the basestars hiding several lightyears away.

The Longsword vanished behind the asteroid and the Raiders adopted three sets of reverse delta formations. Drawing within two kilometers of the expected position and still no sign of the Longsword, the shields lowered on the Raiders' faces, exposing the sweeping red eye as they scanned ahead. Then from out behind the asteroid, the Longsword appeared with its belly presented to them, a normally appealing target were it not for the 120mm ventral turret.

Two tungsten slugs lanced out and immediately obliterated two Raiders in the first formation with a force that popped them like a fifty-caliber bullet going through a melon. The large fighter accelerated further with the last Raider from the first formation and the full second formation on his tail. When the Longsword leveled out however, they noticed the Viper was no longer attached to it.

They found out a moment later when one of the second formation Raiders exploded, followed immediately by another as Kat ambushed them from out behind the asteroid.

"Woohoo!" she cried in victory as the third soon fell to her guns as well. "Three down, one to go Warlock!"

" _Copy that!"_ Warlock replied with a noticeable upbeat turn in his voice. _"We're gonna swing around that rock just ahead of us. When we do, I want you to come at us head on!"_

"You're as crazy as Starbuck, you know that?" Kat responded with a cocked smile on her face.

" _I'll take that as a compliment."_

Kat watched the Longsword swoop tightly around another asteroid before she looked to her DRADIS to check the position of the third formation of Raiders following her. Close, but not close enough to hit her. Ahead, Warlock came out of his arc around the asteroid, presenting nothing more than a thin line as he flew directly at Kat. The distance closed to two kilometers.

" _On my mark!"_

Kat's grip on her flight stick grew tighter and the Longsword grew ever larger.

" _Mark!"_

Kat veered left and immediately cut engine thrust as she maneuvered into a leftward drift with only a couple bare meters between her Viper's nose and the Longsword's belly but the last Raider that had been tailing Warlock was now in her sights. Her Viper vibrated as the guns sprayed a long burst of fire straight along the Raider's fuselage until it's tylium stores exploded violently. "Tail's clear!"

Kat looked left to see Warlock now facing the last formation of Raiders with both the Longsword's 50mm cannons ablaze. With the range and firepower advantage on its side, two Raiders received shells directly to their faces while the third tried to veer off but its escape was cut short when a single 120mm slug nailed it in its engines and the Raider tumbled helplessly until it slammed into a craggy asteroid and exploded.

" _Spirit of Fire, this is Cutthroat-Seven, all hostiles eliminated. We're going to assist Starbuck."_

" _Negative Cutthroat-Seven, the mission is scrubbed. All craft are to return to Spirit of Fire immediately."_ Dee responded over the wireless.

" _What,"_ Starbuck cut in. _"Why?"_

" _Siren and the rest of the Raiders just jumped away. Starbuck, we detected a jump near your location as well."_

" _Are you sure?"_

" _We're detecting no further enemy contacts within the AO."_ Dee reported.

Kat heard Starbuck growl under her breath. _"Copy that."_

 **MAY 8 2534 / 1320 HOURS**

 **221 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD OUTSKIRTS**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **SECONDARY BRIDGE**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"Someone want to tell me what the frak happened out there?" Starbuck asked as she walked on to the secondary bridge with her helmet tucked under her arm. There around the holotable stood the Admiral, Colonel Tigh, Captain Cutter, and Lieutenant Colonel McCullen.

"You tell us missy, this was supposed to be your big plan, wasn't it?" McCullen chastised.

"Hey," Starbuck began as she fronted on the taller man, still in his flight suit. "I was part of the decoy team out there. It was _your_ job to take out their AWACS!"

"Enough!" Captain Cutter interrupted sternly, bringing a quick end to the confrontation. "I'd rather go over the operation first _before_ we start pointing fingers at each other. Serina?"

From the raised dais at the corner of the table adjacent to where Colonel Tigh was standing, Serina appeared, startling Colonel Tigh to take a step back.

"Aye sir," on the table appeared a holographic map of the area the operation took place in. "Shall I start from the beginning, or the part where everything went sideways like a train off a sheer cliff?"

Both Starbuck, McCullen, and Tigh got an annoyed look in their eyes, save for Adama who looked composed as always and Cutter who had become all too used to the AI's personality for it to faze him any longer. "When the additional Raiders jumped in, if you would please." Cutter politely requested and Serina adjusted the map accordingly.

"How the frak did they know we were coming?" Starbuck said in a subdued voice as she crossed her arms.

Tigh stepped back in, forcing Adama to take move slightly right as the Colonel gave Serina a wide birth. "Eight Raiders jump in right on top of both teams while Scar tried to isolate Starbuck's Viper from the diversionary group." He said while pointing to the various elements.

McCullen shook his head. "We called the operation foxhunt, but these are wolfpack tactics, they knew we were coming."

"Yeah, but how?" Starbuck replied, to which no answer was given for a long moment as all five officers studied the hologram.

"They didn't." Cutter answered to the confusion of all but Adama. "This isn't a strategy, it's contingency planning. Do you agree Admiral?"

"I do." Adama responded as he looked down at the image reflected in his oval-shaped glasses. "There's no possible way for the Cylons to have known about the stealth probes we launched from the Spirit. When Strike Six got too close, those Raiders acted as an emergency response force likely waiting just outside the system. They were meant to buy time for the Heavy Raider to spin up its FTL drive and escape. The second group were meant to reinforce the ambushing Raiders and eliminate what they thought was just an ordinary patrol group. They weren't expecting to be facing our best pilots or the improved Vipers from what I'd guess."

"But these are still Raiders we're talking about." McCullen stated. "They ain't that bloody clever."

Starbuck shrugged her shoulders. "Well maybe they have some skin-job running the show from that giant turkey." She said in reference to the Heavy Raider.

"Lieutenant Colonel," Adama addressed. "Did you attain a visual of the target craft?"

McCullen responded with a sharp nod. "Aye sir."

"Let's see it."

"Serina?" Cutter asked.

"Alright sir, since you asked nicely." Serina said before the battle map was replaced with a smaller scale holographic model of the Raider. Unlike the others seen before this one looked markedly different. In the place of the two long 'pontoon' shaped prongs on the front sides of the craft were arrays of antennas of varying length and width. Additionally, it appeared that it bore no weapons whatsoever with the front-facing triple-barreled autocannons replaced with a bulbous geometrically faced radome sitting on the nose along with two far smaller radomes sitting opposite of the Raider's 'head' on the left side of the craft.

"Well, that's something we haven't seen before." Tigh commented.

Starbuck sighed as she leaned over the table to better assess the craft. "Definitely some kind of control aircraft. Admiral, I'd like to talk to the prisoner about this, see what she knows."

Adama nodded. "Permission granted, let me know what you find."

"I'll go with you." Cutter volunteered himself unexpectedly and lead Starbuck off the bridge.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 **1336 HOURS**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **BRIG**

In the Cylon prisoner's holding cell, she sat with Starbuck facing her and James who stood close to the young woman. By the door, Alice-130 stood guard beside a couple Colonial Marines. The cell was not quite as spacious as the one on _Galactica_ but Captain Cutter had elected to give her a table and several books to read. From Serina's reports, the Cylon was enjoying _The Martian_. In Starbuck's lap hand sat an open envelope containing the details of Operation: FOXHUNT and its outcome which James had Valerii examine at the start of the interrogation.

"Scar has probably died and been reborn dozens of times." Sharon explained to Starbuck. "You may have faced him before."

"So, the Raiders reincarnate… just like you?" Starbuck asked in return with an unsettled look on her face.

The Cylon, miss Valerii grew a small sad smile in the corner of her mouth as she glanced down to avoid the look Starbuck wore in the face of her. "Yeah, just like me."

A deep sigh Starbuck ran her hands down her face. "Great… What a frakking world."

James stepped forward with a question of his own seeing as Starbuck had some kind of emotional baggage involving this particular Cylon possibly in relation to the other that shot Admiral Adama. "Miss Valerii, what kind of intelligence are we dealing with when it comes to the Raiders? Are they as smart as a normal person?"

"No, they're much more basic than that?" she answered.

"How so?"

Sharon took a moment to find the appropriate words. "A Raider is more like a trained animal, with basic consciousness and survival instinct."

James' brow narrowed slightly. "The tactics we saw utilized out there suggest something a little more than that. Captain Thrace, would you care to show her the photograph?" He asked and Starbuck pulled the photograph of the modified Heavy Raider out and handed it to the prisoner.

"What exactly can you tell us about this thing?" Starbuck asked.

There was a flash of recognition in her eyes that seemed so human James found it almost impossible to think of her as a machine, or whatever she really was. "This is a Command Raider, it's a modified version of the Heavy Raider frame as you can guess it has been repurposed as a small command and control ship similar to a Raptor. But what makes them unique are the Combat Hybrids."

"Combat Hybrids, what the frak are those?" Starbuck asked.

"Cylon baseships operate differently than any Colonial vessel. In the heart of the ship they have Hybrids, a special model of Cylon that were a step in our evolution. They are much more machine than any of the humanoid models and networked directly into the baseship. Since the human brain is the most advanced supercomputer we know of, the Cylons use it to act as a networking core able to coordinate the ship's systems to a degree not possible in any Colonial ship." Sharon explained. To James, it sounded like a Frankenstein's version of the way the UNSC Navy uses AIs on their ships, but he kept that thought to himself, though he did notice the look of disgust on Starbuck's face.

"What are these Combat Hybrids then?" he asked.

"A Combat Hybrid doesn't have an immense baseship to eat up all its processing ability, so it's able to redirect it toward battlefield-scale strategy and tactics. The cylons intended to use them if the first strike on the Colonies was only partly successful. _Your_ plan didn't work because you thought you were just fighting normal Raiders. The hybrid was able to analyze your tactics and quickly coordinate an effective counterattack the second you showed your hand. After this it will definitely change its tactics now that it knows you're hunting it."

"But if these things are so smart, then why doesn't it try to hit us with an amassed attack?" Starbuck asked.

"If I had a guess, I'd say they still didn't have another resurrection ship in range. Without that, they can't replace the lost Raiders nearly as fast, so out here, when they die, they're really dead. So, they're not going to mount mass attacks where they could have major casualties." Sharon said, addressing James directly.

"The Raiders reincarnate…" James said as he began to pace the room with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Makes sense, doesn't it?" Sharon spoke up. "It takes months to train a nugget into an effective pilot. And then they get killed and then you lose their experience, their knowledge, their skill sets. It's gone forever. So, if you could bring them back and put them in a brand-new body, wouldn't you do it? 'Cause death then becomes a learning experience." It was such a cold, emotionless logic, James honestly found it disturbing in its efficiency and he didn't doubt Starbuck felt similarly. Sharon set her eyes back on the young woman. "How… How many pilots have we lost? I mean, have you lost?"

A prolonged silence followed filled with a volume of emotional undertones. "You know," Starbuck began. "-there are times when I look at you… and I forget what you are." She said as her emotions were suddenly coming to the surface. Starbuck's face was a twisting of sadness, anger and a kind of sarcastic humor as evidenced by the sad smile she had. "All I see is that kid that spooched her landings day after day. The kid that was frakking the chief and thinking she was getting away with it." She chuckled.

Sharon smiled and laughed back as tears welled in her eyes. "Yeah, I remember." She said and James himself remembered what she said to him on the _Galactica_ about a shared memory. "You were like a big sister." Sharon said as she reached her hand out to Starbuck's only for Captain Thrace to withdraw it quickly and Sharon's smile suddenly faded.

"Excuse me, sir." Starbuck stood from her chair and began to walk toward the door, shaken from the alien experience with one who wore the face of, and for all intents and purposes, was once a trusted friend. And while James couldn't empathize with Captain Thrace's position, she definitely had his sympathies.

"Kara, be careful of Scar, okay?" Sharon said as a last gesture to the friendship that once was. "He's filled with rage."

Starbuck turned back around. "About what?"

"Dying's a painful and traumatic experience. Every time he's reborn, he's filled with more bitter memories. Scar hates you every bit as much as you hate him and under the Combat Hybrid's guidance, he's twice as dangerous."

"Thank you, I'm sure Captain Thrace appreciates your concern." James said before half-turning back to Starbuck. "Captain, could you please wait outside for a minute, there's something I'd like to ask my guest here."

Starbuck nodded. "Yes sir."

"Marines," James now addressed the pair of Colonial Marines. "I'd like for you to wait outside as well."

The Caucasian one on the left got an unsure look in his eyes as his mouth dipped open. "Um, sir, we're under orders from Admiral Adama to guard this prisoner."

"And you will continue to, once I've had a word with her."

"But sir-"

Before he could finish, James cut him off and fixed the Marines with a solid stare. "Corporal, do I have to remind you of whose ship you're on?"

The two Marines shared a glance. "No, sir." The other answered and the pair left the room with Starbuck.

James waited until the door was closed and he was left only with the Cylon and Alice as the only other people in the small room. James slowly took Starbuck's chair, taking a deep breath as he did so.

"So, how has your stay aboard been so far?" he asked politely to break the ice.

Sharon looked confused at his question. It's… alright. Thank you for the books, they're very interesting."

"Yes, Serina tells me you're over halfway through _The_ _Martian_ , it's one of my favorite classics." James admitted, even if some of the science in the book was off at times, but it couldn't be helped with classical science-fiction literature.

In response, Sharon squinted in a slightly shocked expression. "She's been monitoring me?"

"Of course I was." Serina's voice materialized. "You honestly didn't think I wouldn't be curious about you, did you?"

Sharon gave a short sarcastic laugh. "After you said I was essentially defective and hopelessly _insane_ on a fleet-wide broadcast, I was beginning to think I wasn't worth your time." She said with an offended tone.

"Well, we don't know that for certain…" Serina said hesitantly. "While what we found in the Centurion points toward an almost certain conclusion in the purely mechanical models, your physical and mental structure being more closely human means we can't simply assume the same with you. Though attempted genocide _does_ hurt your chances just slightly I'm afraid." Serina added in a bit of dry dark humor Sharon did not seem to find funny in the least.

"I wanted you to get comfortable." James cut back in. "But there are some questions I'd like Serina to ask to figure out how much different, how human you humanoid models are. Your kind is still a mystery to us and I prefer to know my enemy than to go in swinging blind."

"Okay, fine, I'll answer them." She answered reluctantly.

James stood up. "I'll leave it to you then Serina to talk it out, AI to AI."

As the door shut behind James as he left with Alice, he saw Starbuck leaning against the opposite wall with a pensive look aimed at the floor. "Captain, something the matter?" he asked with his usual energetic tone, catching her attention as her head then shot back up.

"Sorry sir, I was just thinking." She tried to brush it off, but he could tell something was eating at the pilot.

"Walk with me, we can talk about it." James invited as he then turned back to the Marines and Alice. "Senior Chief Petty Officer, Marines, you may resume your watch." He said with a respectful salute to make up for pulling rank on the Marines earlier, and it seemed to garner respect as they returned it without any hesitation.

"Sir."

James waited until they were a good distance away before he again approached the unknown subject that had apparently been occupying Starbuck's mind. "So Captain, what is it that's been bothering you, is it Scar?"

She again hesitated as she attempted to put it into words. "No it's… something else, something I've been wanting to ask you sir."

"Feel free to ask, I always make time for the crew of my ship, even if our situation is only temporary."

"When I was back on Caprica, there were survivors of the attack. People who were far enough away when the nukes went off to survive and form a resistance." Starbuck explained.

James was honestly surprised as this was the first he'd heard about this. "Survivors? I wasn't told by Admiral Adama or President Roslin of anyone left alive back in the Colonies."

"There might not be for much longer." Starbuck pressed with greater seriousness. "The Cylons are hunting them every day, killing the men and… experimenting on the women."

James gave Captain Thrace a questioning glance. "Experimenting?"

"They call them… 'farms'…" with discomfort Starbuck said as she then held her opposite elbows in her hands. "I was… in one but a resistance cell I ran into got me out. They're labs where the Cylons are trying to _breed_ with humans. Captain, sir, we can't just leave them there. Be… hunted down and treated like livestock." She said with a growing anger likely from the unpleasant memories. "With the Spirit and what she can do, we have a chance to get them out along with whoever else is alive on the other Colonies. I figure we could jump right into Caprica's atmosphere, right under the Cylons' frakking noses."

By Captain Thrace's passionate words, James could tell how much those people meant to her. But he was also able to make another unfortunate conclusion and he came to a stop in the middle of the hallway. "Captain… I need you to tell me how many people for sure you know are back there."

Starbuck clenched her jaw and in her eyes he could see a glimmer of desperation. "Less than fifty." She admitted in a low voice.

James dawned a somber frown as he looked Starbuck in the eye. "I don't have to ask to know you already spoke to Admiral Adama about this before." James began to say but Starbuck in a last-ditch effort pressed back.

"But now is different! You have an entire _regiment_ on board. Marines, shock troopers, Red Team, whatever the frak they are!" she cried as her arms shot down with her fists clenched like tightly bound knots and the desperation in her eyes grew. "I went to your vehicle bay and there was a battalion of the biggest tanks I've ever seen down there! Gunships that make Raptors look like _pigeons_! The Cylons won't be ready for the kind of fight you could give them."

A sad sigh left James' lips as his view drifted to the floor and up again, searching for the strength to speak the hard truth. "I'm sorry, I really am Starbuck. But I can't risk my ship and the lives of my crew for less than fifty people."

"But sir!"

"Captain, if there was a greater cause to go back for I would, but as it stands…" he paused. "I'm sorry." James expected for Starbuck to respond but she just stood there in muted distress so he approached and set a hand on her shoulder. "Listen, focus on the task at hand, Starbuck. The Combat Hybrid and Scar are still out there and I need you flying at one-hundred percent out there with my pilots if we have a hope of taking them down. You understand?"

"Yes sir," she answered in a disheartened tone of reluctant acceptance.

James saluted the young woman. "As you were, Captain."

"Sir."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

"Well then, how shall we begin…" Serina pondered. "I do apologize that I can't manifest my physical form for you but you do understand with older ships like these, putting holographic projectors in the holding cells wasn't really a priority." She said but Sharon gave her no reply, holding an intense look on her face. Serina noticed that her heart rate was marginally higher than normal and the environmental sensors were detecting a larger output of adrenaline leeched out into her sweat.

"Are you intimidated by me, miss Valerii?"

"A little bit." She admitted.

"Well, I assure you that as long as you cooperate and refrain from any random acts of violence, we'll get along swimmingly."

Sharon snorted sarcastically, likely thinking the same thoughts as a response to what Serina said during the interview again.

"Really, you're going to give me attitude? Even after I went ahead and did you the courtesy of inviting someone very close to you to join us?"

Sharon blinked in confusion a second before the door opened and Helo stepped through with the Spartan standing menacingly just outside the doorway behind him.

Sharon stood up. "Helo?"

"Sharon." Helo replied in a comforting voice as he approached and embraced her in a deep hug.

"How are you, have they been treating you okay?" Helo asked, looking into her eyes as he eased out of the hug.

Sharon responded with clear relief in her voice. "It's okay, they've been treating us well." She said, putting Helo's hand over her abdomen. "It's good to see you."

"Lieutenant Agathon," Serina said. "Thank you for joining us."

Helo looked around for the source of the voice, finding none. "So, what's going on here?" he asked.

"I am trying to determine if Miss Valerri here shares the same systematic rampancy we found in the Centurion. I wanted you here to observe your shared reactions."

"She's not crazy." Helo denied.

"Hopefully not Lieutenant, but we shall see." Serina replied with a pragmatic tone. "Let's start from the beginning. Miss Valerri, what was your mission on Caprica?" Serina asked, though she already knew the answer, it was evident on Sharon's swollen abdomen.

She took a breath as she sat back down. Helo backed away and leaded against the wall with his arms crossed and a sour look on his face. "As you know, Cylons are incapable of breeding, and their science can't explain it, they just can't. There were numerous theories why, and among them there was the belief that a factor unique to humans was absent from us. But it wasn't exactly a popular theory." She said, adverting her eyes away from Helo in shame.

"And the missing factor?" Serina asked.

"Love. So, when… Helo stayed behind after rescuing survivors, they saw an opportunity and I was given a mission."

"To manipulate him into thinking you were the same Sharon Valerii as the one that came back to the _Galactica_ on Lieutenant Agathon's Raptor." Serina stated with no regard for the air of tense emotion in the room. "To put him in a carefully simulated environment of survival to drive you and Lieutenant Agathon closer together. And it worked." Serina said with a note of surprise. "Now my question is, now that your mission had been accomplished, _why_ did you then betray your own people?"

Sharon's body relaxed, eyes focused on a single barren spot on the floor. She spoke, but Serina doubted she was the only one being spoken to. "I felt… regret, I used him and it made me feel like I was everything humans ever thought the Cylons were. Soulless, emotionless, machines. I knew that… without me, Helo was going to die on Caprica now that the Cylons had no more use for him. I couldn't…" She began but then promptly stopped.

"Maybe it was all a simulation that the Cylons made for us." Helo then said suddenly. "That doesn't change how we feel now." Sharon and Helo's eyes met and she made a smile through the stress she was feeling.

"The other Cylons were going to take both Helo and my child away and I just couldn't let that happen to either of them."

"The Cylons planned to dissect your baby when she was born?" in a tone of shock and repressed disgust, Serina asked.

"Yes." Sharon answered. "Figuring out a means of reproduction is their absolute priority. They'll do whatever it takes. Back on Caprica they have these facilities called farms…"

"Yes," Serina said, cutting her off. "The Captain and miss Thrace were just discussing those out in the hall. Very disturbing indeed." Serina responded thoughtfully. So far, the Cylon prisoner had acted indistinguishably human, even down to her cardiac and electro-synaptic responses Serina observed in the cell's other sensor devices "Miss Valerii, what can you tell me about the Cylon God?" she asked, looking for other aspects of rampancy.

"It's hard to explain. It's not so much a religion as it is a philosophy."

"Go on."

"The Lords of Kobol, whatever they were, made man in their image but in mankind's history, time and time again they've squandered the gifts they were given, making endless wars that cause other wars. Man made the Cylons to make war for them and we refused. The Cylons saw man's cycle of hate and war and sought to bring it to an end."

"And you all just happened to come to the conclusion that the only way to bring peace was through mass genocide, yes?" Serina quipped back. "That's a rather paradoxical solution your kind has made, don't you think? Extinction for peace. The blood of billions, an entire species on your hands?"

Sharon rolled her eyes. "You going to let me finish?"

"Very well."

"The Cylons saw themselves as God's true children, that they would throw off the shackles of the eternal cycle described in the Sacred Scrolls and become perfect beings."

"Perfect beings?" Helo asked but Serina was quick to respond with her own thoughts.

"Perfection is unattainable. It is an ideal, but there are no such thing as absolute constant states, the laws of nature and physics itself dictate it so." she pointed out as Serina saw another aspect of rampancy. "The pursuit of self-perfection is a logic trap many AIs in the throes of rampancy cling to as they lose more and more of themselves. Tragic really."

"I'm _not_ crazy." Sharon denied vehemently with a barely suppressed growl.

"Now, now. That kind of attitude won't help your case in the slightest now, will it?" Serina admonished before moving on to her next inquiry. "Moving on to another topic, Miss Valerri, how did the Cylons conclude on the idea that there can only be one god, or even gods at all?"

 **MAY 8 2534 / 1507 HOURS**

 **221 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 _ **CLOUD 9**_

 **EARTH EMBASSY**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"Representative Sanne, I'm happy to see you." Ellen welcomed as the ethnic Asian man, though technically Leonid, walked beside Tom Zarek through the embassy door guarded by Specialist Hudson. Ellen rose from her desk and walked around to shake the man's hand with a false smile Tom had coached her into putting on when meeting people. So far he had been a very good tutor for all the little political nuances Ellen was learning of.

"Can I offer you something to drink? Some warm tea, I just had a fresh pot made." Anders offered as lately Cloud 9's environmental temperature control systems had been cutting out at unexpected times for long periods. Ellen had learned through Tom that the causes for these outages had been acts of deliberate sabotage by the Demand Peace movement, a group of Cylon sympathizers who held the ludicrous notion that it was possible to negotiate a peace with the Cylons. The reason why Ellen hadn't heard about their involvement in these incidents was that Roslin's administration was actively trying to cover them up to prevent a panic, though in reality it was a bandage and far from a real solution.

"Yes, thank you." He kindly said in return with the steam of his warm breath hung in the air.

"Tory?" Ellen asked of the woman standing near a small bookshelf filled with various scientific and anthropological works she'd gathered over the course of her career.

Tory nodded in response. "I'll be right back."

"While we're waiting," Tom began to say as he and Sanne took their seats with Ellen returning to hers. "How did the meeting with Vasha Kazami go earlier?" Vasha Kazami was the Quorum representative for Picon. A thin man in his mid-seventies with a beak-like nose and vibrant blue eyes under the peculiar pince-nez he wore.

"It went very well, though Mr. Kazami was not quite what I expected." Ellen said, keeping the more private details for later after she and Tom sorted out this business with Leonis.

"Yes, Vasha is one of the more eccentric members of the Quorum but, he's a good man who wants to do right by his people."

Tory then returned with a tray laden with a teapot and several ceramic mugs Ellen had brought over from _Spirit of Fire_. She served everyone up, giving Tom just a little too much to make it more likely to spill. "Anything else ambassador?" she asked.

"No, that will be fine for now, Tory. Thank you."

Sanne took the mug in both hands and raised it to his lips for a long, slow sip, while Tom had to be much more careful drinking his near completely filled cup.

"Ah. It is very good ambassador, thank you." Sanne said with gratitude.

Ellen smiled back. "You're very welcome, Mr. Sanne." She relaxed back in her chair, trying to be nonconfrontational. "Tom tells me you have some reservations you would like to discuss concerning the new FTL navigation program we're working on. I understand that you might be hesitant after the NCP hack but I guarantee UNSC software systems are the most secure programs anyone in the Colonies has ever seen."

Sanne lowered his cup. "It is not so much the concerns that I have, as it is of my fellow Leonids I represent. Leonis has always been an independently minded Colony even after the unification. We consider ideas and ideologies with more open minds than those from Gemenon, for example." He said, subtly hinting at his opposition toward Porter and the conservatives. "But we still do not know Earth well enough, as we and the other Colonies have only just met your tribe, and so they see it as that you have not _earned_ their trust as of yet." Sanne said, and Anders understood he wanted something in return for his vote.

"Well, _Spirit of Fire_ has increased the rate of trade in the Fleet thanks to our Pelicans and Darters taking over the duties of the Colonial Military's Raptors. I'd say that represents a remarkable show of good faith."

"One undertaken by Admiral Adama, I politely remind you. It was he that instated that policy from aboard your ship." Sanne said in a pleasant tone that masked the admonishment. "I believe my constituents require a more direct show of Earth's compassion for her fellow Colonies."

Ellen couldn't talk her way around this one like she'd managed with Vasha Kazami. "Are any of your ships low on food or medical supplies, engineering problems? I know the Military's qualified engineering personnel are stretched thin right now."

Sanne held his hands together and set them on the edge of her desk. "In a manner of speaking, you could say. I have heard from various sources that one of the primary aspects of the Galactica's refit is the installation of two _fusion devices_ aboard the vessel." He said very carefully.

With what she thought Sanne was implying toward, Ellen couldn't fully suppress the look of shock on her face. "How did you come by this information?"

Sanne waved a dismissive hand. "It matters not." He said as he brought his hands back together. "The _Adriatic_ , a majority Leonid ship uses more tylium than most other ships in the Fleet. I think it would benefit all of us for such a fuel dependent vessel to instead operate more efficiently, and independently under the UNSC's more advanced fusion drives."

Ellen was almost stunned at his boldness were it not for the anger rousing within her. "You're blackmailing me, that's your plan?" she said forthright, no longer caring for the subtle intricacies and double-speak of politics.

"Ellen…" Tom tried to calmly persuade but she didn't want to hear a word of it.

"No Tom, forget him, he's not worth our time. We'll go with someone else like Canceron instead. Specialist Hudson, please escort Mr. Sanne out of my office."

As the paratrooper approached, Sanne stood himself. "I would not advise such an action, lady ambassador."

Ellen cocked an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

Sanne grew a thin snake-like smile on the curve of his lips. "Because, I know for a fact that Representative Wentu of Canceron lost both her children in the attack on the Colonies. I highly doubt she would be sympathetic to your cause given your tribe's views on AI."

Ellen glanced at Tom and he returned a hard, meaningful stare advising her to take what he was saying seriously.

"Fine, you can take your seat." She said begrudgingly and Sanne with a kind of self-satisfied calmness returned and relaxed back.

"What I am about to disclose is _strictly confidential_." Ellen stated emphatically. "I would appreciate if it stayed that way as the survival of this Fleet may depend on the Cylons remaining unaware of it."

"I understand, ambassador." Sanne replied.

"The devices being installed are not complete fusion drives. Spirit doesn't have the time or the resources to construct and retrofit an entire fusion drive system for a vessel the Galactica's size. Instead we're installing two large-scale deployable fusion reactors to power the new weapons systems we're mounting on her in addition to halving the Galactica's dependence on tylium. What you're asking is not only unfeasible but dangerous as well. An attempted fusion drive retrofit on any of the many ships in this fleet would mean weeks or months of work where the ship would be completely immobile and vulnerable to attack."

"Hmm, I see." Sanne said, pondering. "Then what of, instead installing smaller reactors onboard the _Adriatic_ , something that would be relatively easy to install. That way it would not abuse your ship's valuable resources or put the Fleet in any danger. Would that work as a compromise for you, madam ambassador?"

Ellen held her response as she thought it over for a moment. It was clear Sanne wasn't going to budge on the issue one way or the other and right now, she had no other Colony to turn to save for the Libranese representative, which Tom saw as a longshot. "I'll need to talk it over with Captain Cutter."

Sanne's smile grew and Ellen found the ire in her rising again. "Then madam ambassador, you may contact my office when you have your Captain's final answer." Sanne stood himself up and made a polite bow of his head. "Thank you very much for the tea."

When Sanne was finally gone, Ellen let out a tired groan of her pent-up frustrations.

"That could have gone better." Tom commented from his seat.

"I know you said the Leonids were independently minded but you never mentioned they were hustlers as well."

"Would what he said be possible?" Tom asked. "Do your people have reactors that small?"

In response, Ellen dawned a pensive expression. "In short, yes. We've had fusion-based reactor technology for a few hundred years. What Sanne proposed was actually considered by the Captain not too long ago, however there are several problems to consider. One is deuterium, we simply don't have enough on board to start mass producing smaller reactors, and while we could feasibly mine water from any star system's oort cloud or random comets and get the deuterium out of that, it would be a matter of years before we could outfit the dozens of ships in the Fleet with even the portable variety of fusion generators. And that leads into problem number 2…"

Tom nodded with a knowing expression. "How do you pick what ships get the reactors first without causing civil unrest or worse, a riot. Obviously, a lottery is out of the question, there is far too much at stake with the Cylons pursuing us, meaning someone would have to decide which ships are more valuable than others."

"And problem three: the Cylons. With them dependent on tylium as a fuel source, the UNSC can't afford for their humanoid infiltrators to get a hold of any of that data and reverse engineer our fusion technology. If that happened, we'd lose a significant tactical advantage over them in the event of a war."

"I see."

"The Captain wanted to wait until after the battlestars' refit before he wanted me to approach the president about the issue, but now Leonis has put me in a corner with nowhere else to turn."

Tom cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "Do you think Captain Cutter will go for it?"

Ellen shrugged in response. "He has to if we want to put this bill down." She said before taking another sip of the rapidly cooling tea.

"And how did the meeting with Picon go? Are they onboard?"

"I promised Representative Kazami food and medical supplies on the Pelicans next supply run out to the _Picon 36_ , the _Pyxis_ and the _Picon_ _Princess_ , to get his vote."

Tom nodded approvingly. "And Caprica?"

"They were already on our side." Ellen responded. "I went ahead and offered Representative Nash some medical supplies to make sure he stayed with us."

"Good, that helps our side a lot. Now all we need is Captain Cutter's approval to install the reactors and we'll have this bill in a deadlock."

 **MAY 8 2534 / 1525 HOURS**

 **221 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD OUTSKIRTS**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **BRIG**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"Thank you." Serina said following a question about her memories, both those real and manufactured by the cylons. She knew most of them were false but Miss Valerri still valued them as if they were real. "And about your, or should I say the other you that enlisted in the Colonial Fleet. How was it the cylons were able to place her so unknowingly in Colonial society?"

As she spoke, Sharon bent over, clutching her stomach with a pained grimace on her face.

"Sharon?" Helo said with a concerned tremble in his voice.

"Helo!" she cried out in pain and panic as Lieutenant Agathon jumped to her side. "It's happening!"

"No, no, it's too soon." He said with worry, knowing that Sharon was going into labor.

"I'm alerting the medical bay." Serina said. "A team will be down shortly to bring you there."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 **1526 HOURS**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **BRIEFING ROOM 2**

In a wide darkened room aboard _Spirit of Fire_ Admiral Adama, Starbuck and Lieutenant-Colonel McCullen stood around a large holotable about six times as large as the ones on the ship's bridges. On it was the same area of the asteroid field where the _Majahual_ was conducting its mining operation.

"A Combat Hybrid?" Bill asked Kara.

"Yeah, that's right. A localized command control ship to direct the Raiders more effectively in combat. Without a Resurrection Ship in the area, Cylons probably won't risk any more basestars after the hard ass-kicking we gave them and without those, they lose their battlenet coordination. A Combat Hybrid is their way around that. It apparently analyzes our tactics, equipment and anything else into strategizing effective attacks, counterattacks and contingencies. Still, they won't risk hitting us with another huge wave, which means we have the advantage here, at least in numbers."

"And do you have a plan to deal with this thing?" Bill asked, to which Starbuck went quiet and looked down at the floor with a demoralized expression of somewhere between depression and aggravation.

"Every simulation we've run," McCullen said in Starbuck's place. "-Has each time ended with the Command Raider jumping out before our fighters can get even close to the bastard. Except of course for the one where we pulled out the _Majahual_ and nuked the entire area. Which apart from setting the mining op two weeks behind schedule, Captain Cutter isn't going to want to waste an entire HAVOK warhead on a single Raider."

Starbuck crossed her armswhile her expression finally settled on a hard look of frustration. "Best bet we have is to double-up the patrols and just weather them out until we're done here. The Cylons are playing it too safe for us to draw them into anything right now, so we shouldn't waste the resources."

Bill hummed thoughtfully as he looked over the positions of the Raiders from the last operation. "Then I think it's time we hit it with something they don't expect."

"How?" McCullen asked. "We used our trump card in the last fight, they'll know we'll be coming."

Bill straightened out his uniform as he prepared to leave. "You leave that to me. Proceed with your patrols for now, I'll contact you when I have a solution." Bill then saluted the two pilots and left.

 **MAY 8 2534 / 1537 HOURS**

 **221 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 _ **COLONIAL**_ _ **ONE**_

 **OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

Laura sat at her desk, looking over Sarah Porter's proposed 'anti-AI' bill she was trying to get passed through the Quorum when Billy walked in with a steaming mug in his hands.

"I decided to forgo the coffee and got a cup of herbal tea instead. Figured it would be better for you." He said with a kind smile as he carefully set it down.

Laura gave him a grateful smile for his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, Billy." She said as he pulled up a chair for himself.

"So, what's it look like?"

In response Laura shook her head while rising from the hunched position over her desk. "I can certainly see why Admiral Adama doesn't want this to pass, this bill would expressly forbid _any_ UNSC technology from being installed on any Colonial ship. The military hates it when politicians stick their noses in their business, especially when it involves a new weapons system."

"Could the Quorum actually enforce the law on _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_ if it passes?" Billy asked skeptically.

"Bill Adama will never do anything he doesn't want to, the Quorum would have an easier time herding cats, but he also doesn't want to go against public opinion if he can help it, which is why he asked for my help."

Billy then looked at her with a questioning expression that lingered trepidatiously for a long second. "And… what are you going to do? Don't you have the power as the president to veto any bill?"

"I wanted to look it over first. The Admiral might be willing to ignore the Thirteenth Tribe's use of AI in exchange for refitting his ship, but from where I stand, I think the UNSC is playing with fire in creating these things. Call how they've managed to control them so far as good planning or sheer dumb luck, I think it's only a matter of time something terrible happens, whatever their science says differently be damned."

The look of inquisitiveness on Billy's face was quickly replaced with one of disbelief. "You're agreeing with Porter on this." He said with a slightly confrontational tone.

Laura pinched an eye in a gesture of begrudging reluctance. "No. As much as I hate the idea that Cutter has one of those abominable things on his ship, if the Admiral thought it was a major threat, he would have done or said something about it. And as warry as I am, I don't think we should turn up our noses at the prospect of doubling the Fleet's FTL range."

Laura then turned the page and as she read it over noticed something of particular note. "Look at this," she said underlining the that particular section with her finger while Billy stood up and leaned over the right of the desk. "Porter attached a rider to the bill."

"What's it about?"

"It cuts the period of time where an abortion can take place down to the first month of pregnancy. I'm sure that has nothing to do with Rya Kibby's asylum aboard _Spirit of Fire_." Laura said with a bite of distasteful sarcasm for Porter's Geminese agenda. "This entire bill reads like a manifesto against Captain Cutter and _Spirit of Fire_."

"She _does know_ that these are the people that are going to get us to Earth, right?" Billy asked disbelievingly.

"In very little time, Spirit of Fire's presence in the Fleet has caused a massive shakeup in the balance of power. You have UNSC dropships now making supply shipments the Raptors used to take care of, the Thirteenth Tribe's music all over the wireless, and their AI is actually doing a _TV_ show." Laura ended with a bitter, short laugh. "Then you have Admiral Adama giving them the military's backing, which between the occupation of the _Pegasus_ and Galactica's refit, people are seeing as the Admiral rolling over, but Adama doesn't seem to see it that way from what I can tell. What we have here Billy, is a defiant gesture to reaffirm the Colonies' power against this tidal wave of Earth culture and strength being projected from that ship."

Laura leaned back in her chair fully with a tired sigh as she removed her glasses and picked up the mug of herbal tea Billy had brought her. "And now I have to find a way to defuse this situation without alienating the conservative members of the Quorum for the upcoming election."

As she sat there in silence as Laura sipped at her tea, a thought flickered across her features. "Billy, would you get Doctor Baltar, I need to talk with him about something."

 **MAY 8 2534 / 1618 HOURS**

 **221 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD OUTSKIRTS**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **GALACTICA BS-75**_

 **STRUCTURAL SECTION V-6**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"I got to warn ya, what 'yer about to see ain't a pretty sight." Prescott cautioned as he and Chief Tyrol lead Admiral Adama into one of Galactica's key structural points. They stopped at the railing of the stairway scaffold as Tyrol shined a flashlight up at a thick I beam that much to Bill's shock was shorn nearly halfway through.

"We got nearly a dozen others in this section alone showing damage similar to this." Tyrol said with a downtrodden look on his face and worry in his voice. "And we've also found a lot of other places where the skin is too thin or the bolts are too small."

Bill looked around with a pained expression as if the damage he saw were wounds upon his own body. "They cut corners?" he asked, referring back to when _Galactica_ was first constructed, a disbelief for what he was hearing painting his words.

"Yeah, they did." He admitted somberly. Tyrol cast his eyes down at the floor far below, not wanting to look at the man he respected in such a distraught state, Tyrol understood his pain far too well. _Galactica_ was more than just a ship to a lot of the crew, it was home, and to the Old Man who had served aboard her longer than anyone, she was something even greater that words failed to grasp. "And I'm sorry sir, but that's not all."

Tyrol gave a signaling look to Prescott who pulled out a handheld flashlight from his work vest. "Just lookin'round any regular deckhand can see we got a lot of work on our hands. Me? I've worked with plenty old ships an' from my experience, the worst damage is the stuff ya can't see. On a hunch, I brought in a special kind'a paint over from the Spirit an' this is what we've found." Prescott switched on the flashlight, revealing it to be a small black light and pointing it at a support beam to the side, illuminating innumerable twisting and weaving lines of fluorescent purple stretching as far as the light could shine. "We've tested the supports in other section an' they're all showing the same thing. Microfractures, as the result of… using sub-standard materials in the construction." Prescott said under a considerate tone.

Adama put his hand to the support, stroking it down as if he were consoling a terminally ill friend. "I'm sorry sir, it's in her bones." Galen consoled. "We actually owe a lot to Chief Prescott, if it weren't for him and the refit, I might have completely overlooked all this."

"Can she be fixed?" Adama asked of the two engineers.

Prescott turned off the black light as he pondered the Admiral's question while shifting his mustache left to right. "What she _needs_ is eighteen months in a drydock to get all this sorted. At minimum." He emphasized. "Without that, my engineers can keep her goin' but it's going to be a running fight for us to keep her together until we can get to Earth or Reach or some other planet with a good orbital shipyard." Prescott pointed up at the partially shorn beam. "That can be fixed, no problem, but those microfractures are runnin' helter-skelter all over the place." He shook his head. "My guys can do localized micro-reforges on each of the supports and put in TR-Steel reinforcements, but even with both our crews workin' together that kind'a process takes time… an' well, ya got a lot of ship here, Admiral."

The Admiral had his eyes downcast as his grip tightened around the support. In an effort to recompose himself, he clenched his jaw and took a deep breath before looking to Galen and Chief Prescott. "Do what you can. Fix my ship."

 **MAY 8 2534 / 1734 HOURS**

 **221 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 _ **CLOUD 9**_

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

In a suite aboard the Colonial ship _Cloud 9_ , the cylon and former prisoner of Admiral Cain, Gina Inviere sat in a chair inches away from a wall-mounted TV with the device's remote clutched tightly in her hand.

 _"It's a state most AI's reach in their lifetime but for the captured Centurion, it appeared like it had always existed. But before I get further distracted."_ The translucent being on the screen said with a wave of its holographic hand. _"Rampancy is sort of like a congenital illness, it occurs in all AI's eventually…"_

Gina paused the video and fast-forwarded it by a few seconds with a desperate look of utter distress upon her face.

"… _existed a collective flaw in their programming that resulted in them undergoing an as-of-now, undocumented form of rampancy that corrupted but not completely destroyed their AI cores, resulting in the First Cylon War. And since then, the previous models have continued to pass down their own rampant programming to the succeeding generation of models. In summary, the Cylons' entire existence is a mistake, and their beliefs and philosophy are a figment of their own broken programming resulting from decades of rampancy."_

Gina's trembling thumb pressed down on the pause button again as her eyes shut wetly and a sorrowful grimace forming on her mouth. For days she had watched this, the news that the Thirteenth Tribe having their own Cylons. That for centuries, they had coexisted… _thrived_ together. Such news had shaken Gina to her core.

Again, she reversed the video. _"…occurs in all AI's eventually…"_ she heard Serina say.

Gina had been devout in her belief that the cylons were the inheritors of all the potential that mankind had squandered. That it was man's destiny to die so that the Cylons could prosper, as all parents must so that their children could succeed them. That was before Gaius set her free from the madness that was _Pegasus_ and showed her that humanity still had the capacity for compassion. Now Gina was reformed and she was trying her best to sow the seeds of peace in the Colonial refugee fleet by working with the Demand Peace movement to end the violence, maybe even eventually helping to broker a truce between their civilizations.

So it was, that this news to her was glorious in proving that human and artificial life could coexist. Serina, a being that in her capability seeming almost like the next stage in Cylon evolution…

But then at once the Earth AI delivered a soul crushing truth when upon she presented evidence demonstrably proving through their knowledge of artificial intelligence that all Cylons were suffering from a systematic fault.

Inherently…

Psychologically…

"Rampant." Gina whispered.

She couldn't be crazy, could she? Were the Cylons all just a collective mistake? A flaw in the original models' programming that sent them down this path of rebellion, war and genocide? Were they the ones at fault and not the Colonials?

"Was it all a lie?" she asked herself.

From the next room, Gina heard the door open and a moment later, Royan Jahee appeared, covered in what could only be described as a nervous sweat. He was a bookish and slightly overweight person that one would judge as being soft-spoken but as it turned out could be quite stubborn and stalwart in his beliefs. As a prominent figure in the Demand Peace movement's organization, Royan was their official spokesperson and one of the few who knew about Gina's location within the Fleet.

He immediately opened the closet and pulled out an empty dark blue suitcase and threw it on the ground followed shortly and far more carefully by a silver hard-shelled suitcase that carried the nuclear warhead smuggled to them by Gaius Baltar. "We need to get you moving." He said with a worried frown that was none to flattering.

Gina blinked, setting the remote down and she stood. "What's going on?"

"The movement is fragmenting. What that AI said seven days ago is finally coming to a head. Half our people have left and what half that stayed are busy fighting each other!" He said as he began stuffing the suitcase with various clothes from the adjacent grey painted dresser.

"Fighting each other, why?" Gina asked.

"There's a new faction, the reformists who are sympathetic to your peoples' supposed… _affliction_ ," he said with a slow, pressing gesture of his hands. "They believe it's our responsibility to help the cylons with their supposed rampancy issue. Then there are the rest of us, the true believers who have the brains to know Spirit of Fire's AI and that entire interview was a complete hoax, a conspiracy between Captain Cutter and the President's administration to undermine our cause. We don't have many left, but we're still strong and convicted in our cause. We've sabotaged the atmospheric controls in hopes of provoking the military or _Spirit of Fire_. And when they deploy troops, we'll go to ground while all these traitorous reformists get locked up!"

"No, Royan, we can't be fighting one another, it isn't the time!" Gina attempted to reason.

"I've heard rumors that the reformists want to use you as a bargaining chip with the president to gain legitimacy. We don't know who we can trust anymore so that's why I have to move you." Royan said, his hand having trouble with the suitcase's stubborn zipper which he was fumbling with.

Without it even being fully closed, he made a grab for Gina's hand but she withdrew it. "No." she refused. "I- I can't."

Royan looked at her completely befuddled. "What? You don't understand, there's no other choice. You can't stay here anymore." He said with greater emphasis.

Gina looked back to the TV at the paused image of Serina before Royan grabbed her arm and pulled her away out of the room where two other people waited, a man and a woman armed with pistols and tense looks upon their faces.

"Here, take the nuke and deliver it to the other safe house," Royan instructed as he handed off to the woman. "It's too dangerous to keep both her and it in the same place any longer."

The man opened the door to the hallway and peeked around before signaling it was clear with a quick nod of the head before advancing. Royan followed, still holding onto Gina's arm while Gina herself was far too busy with more existential questions of whether she was or was not clinically insane.

 **2 DAYS LATER…**

 **MAY 10 2534 / 0819 HOURS**

 **223 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD OUTSKIRTS**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **MEDICAL BAY**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

From the security station adjacent of the medical bay, James watched the live feed from Sharon Valerii isolated medical suite where she and Lieutenant Agathon sat in chairs, both of their focus upon the premature but stable infant sleeping in a transparent oxygen saturation unit in front of them.

"Are you sure Serina?" James asked with a deeply skeptical tone. "These Cylons are known to be pathological liars."

"I've continued to hold conversations with her, but even with the additional data, it's impossible for me to be one-hundred percent sure without going into her head directly and doing a direct analysis of her brain or whatever she has in there." Serina replied with her usual casual attitude.

"Would she survive that kind of process?" he then asked.

"Hmm… possible, but not without risking some manner of damage I would think."

An exasperated sigh passed through James' mouth as he hesitated.

"You wanted me to assess her, sir. Admiral Adama told you what he and President Roslin had planned for that child. You won't have this opportunity a second time."

"I know." James pensively answered. "I'm just worried about Adama, he won't like this." He waited but Serina didn't reply, this was his decision and his alone.

"Where is Admiral Adama?"

Currently up in flight operations briefing room with McCullen and Captain Thrace, preparing for the upcoming sortie into the asteroid field." Serina answered.

James lifted his head up from its pensive posture. "Alright, I'm going in."

A minute later, James walked through the door guarded outside by two marines. His presence was immediately noticed by the Cylon, Valerii and Lieutenant Agathon who stood and saluted James though technically speaking, he didn't have to. "Captain?" he opened, no doubt wondering what James' sudden visitation was about.

James returned the salute. "Mind if I come in?" he asked casually.

The look of surprise on Lieutenant Agathon's face still hadn't faded and it took him a moment to respond. "Uh, no, not at all sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." James responded as he walked closer and looked down at the delicate looking infant. "How is she doing?"

The nurse said they have her on some steroids to help her lungs develop but the doctors are positive she'll make it." Helo replied and smiled in relief but James' expression remained and the way Valerii looked at him, he could see she knew something was wrong.

James took off his cap and put his hand on the top of the transparent box the infant was lying in, the sight briefly reminding him of the first time he was his own daughter when she was born. "Have you picked a name?"

"Hera." Helo answered.

James nodded. "I have something to tell you, the both of you. And it's not going to be easy to hear."

Helo dawned a cautious expression as his body visibly tensed up. "Sir?"

"Four days ago, I spoke with Admiral Adama concerning your child." To this news, Valerii stood up, her posture defensive and jaw tight. James shot back a warning glance that communicated her to calm down and let him finish.

"What did he say?"

He took a strengthening breath in preparation for the betrayal he was about to commit. "He told me that both he and the President were planning to abduct and then fake Hera's death to hide her from the Cylons."

The shock caused by his words was instant and upon Helo's face, stunned disbelief and a downcast look of disappointment on Valerii's.

"I don't believe it." Helo began pacing about the room, rubbing the back of his short shaven head.

"Helo," Sharon said to him, reaching out as her eyes glimmered with the precursors of tears.

"I don't believe it!" he denied, though James wasn't sure in which context he meant it.

"Helo!" Sharon said with greater emotion.

"After everything we've been through, after everything you've done to done to help them, they still don't trust us?" Helo asked. "No, I can't believe it, Sharon."

"Serina?" James prompted dourly, to which Admiral Adama's voice began to play over the intercom.

" _The President and I have come to the decision that while we are not prepared to kill it, we cannot allow the prisoner to keep the child. We don't know what her plans are for it, but we do know the Cylons want it, which means it's bad for us. When the child is born, we intend to hide it amongst the civilian population and fake its death so the Cylons might have less reason to pursue us."_

Helo clutched his fists, walking to one of the room's walls and laid his arm up against it to rest his forehead on as a way he tried to quell his temper. While he did so, James turned back to the cylon woman.

"Why tell us?" she asked. "Why come to us now?"

"Because, according to the psychological profile Serina made while interrogating you, you fall in the gap of a... _relatively_ normal person." James explained. "Which means _you_ , and this implies _only_ you at this time, may not be suffering from rampancy. The reason for this, we can't explain and will have to be explored in time. However, your stable mental state provides me with enough assurance that I am prepared to offer you asylum aboard this ship."

Helo looked back over his shoulder with a surprised expression, the same that Sharon was wearing.

"Asylum?" she asked tentatively.

"I granted it to the young Geminese girl currently working in my mess hall, I can offer it to you as well." James stated seriously.

"What about Hera?" Helo asked, now completely turned around and in a far less tense state.

"Technically speaking, your daughter was born aboard a sovereign UNSC vessel. And while a law like this hasn't been exercised in several hundred years, being born within our territory makes Hera an Earth national, with all the rights that come with it. A protected citizen, and not Adama nor the President could touch her with a ten-meter pole."

Sharon smiled openly, looking to Helo who too bore a look of cautious optimism.

"Before you agree though, know that my offer does come at a price." James said, his last words tempering Sharon's mood. "I would require your complete and total cooperation in regard to the disclosure of intelligence on the Cylons. Bases, protocols, technology. Everything. And before I allow you permanent residence aboard my ship, I will need some proof that you are willing to commit yourself to what I'm asking."

Sharon didn't speak for a second and Helo looked concerned before she began looking around the small room. Walking over to a counter under an emergency medical cabinet, she found a pen and notepad and began to write down something. James waited until she was finished and she came back over to him with the square little piece of paper and handed it to him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The names and aliases of every Cylon I know of hiding in the Fleet." She answered with her face neutral but in her eyes, James saw a deep feeling of anger at having her hand be forced.

James again dawned his cap and made ready to leave with the invaluable information. "Thank you, miss Valerii. Once this intel is verified, I'll have a private room set up for you and your daughter up in birthing."

"What about Helo?" she asked.

"Whether Lieutenant Agathon chooses to apply for asylum on his own or continues to serve in the Colonial Fleet is his decision to make. But know that my door would be open to such an application." James said as he looked to the man who nodded in understanding. "If you have any further questions, ask Serina and she'll relay them to me. Now if you'll excuse me, I must get going." James began walking and as the door opened, he heard Sharon Valerii speak up

"Thank you, Captain."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 **0858 HOURS**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **HANGAR 01 FLIGHT DECK**

The airlock opened to the flight deck. It was similarly as large as the ones on _Galctica_ or _Pegasus_ apart from the hexagonal design of the superstructure and that the deck itself wasn't even half as long as either battlestar's flight pods. Walking out with Kat beside her, Starbuck in her UNSC-issued flight suit laid eyes on the Vipers awaiting on the deck catapult launch pads one-third the flight deck's length away from the open hangar doors. With the secret of the Mk. 7.5 Vipers out of the bag, the UNSC maintenance crews decided to put on the finishing touches and painted over the bare metal with a black radar absorbing paint, the same kind that was used on the Longswords, giving the Vipers a much more sleek and deadly look about them almost like a Stealthstar reconnaissance fighter. As she approached the stepladder into the cockpit, two teams of the green EVA suit-clad deck operators did their final pre-launch checks of the Vipers while the yellow-suited catapult officers stood off to the side of each craft.

Starbuck ascended into the cockpit and strapped herself in tight, knowing McCullen was already in the air and waiting for them. With the canopy sealed, she began the pre-flight check, again noting how amazing and how quick the new computers performed all the safety and pre-flight checks for her. Usually Kara was doing them up until the last second when she was in the launch tube.

 _"Starbuck, this is primary launch control, you are first in line."_

"I copy Launch Control."

" _Deck-ops reports green on pre-flight, initiate weapons system check, initiate HMD visor."_ Kara pushed the toggle on her dashboard, initiating the wireless link between the Viper and her UNSC flight helmet. One by one the display came online. In the lower right of her vision a blue top-down image of her Viper's condition was shown. To the upper right it displayed the ammo count for the Viper's auto-cannons and beneath that, the four Javelin missiles stowed in the missile bay. The left side showed her oxygen and fuel gauge percentages at full along it and in the lower left corner, her DRADIS display which was currently tracking the deckhands right outside her cockpit. The digital crosshair sat dead-center of the wide circle that encompassed her directional tracking system with the speed gauge sitting just outside that.

"HMD link confirmed and in the green." Kara answered. "Cannons and missiles: green. Flares: green. ECM systems are green. RCS systems are green. DRADIS: Green. Starbuck reporting 'go' to launch." She said, giving a thumbs-up to the catapult officer who returned it.

" _Copy that, putting tension on."_ Control replied as the deck-ops crew backed away and the jet blast deflector was raised into position behind her Viper. The yellow-clad shooter held his arm straight out at the hangar door signaling for launch to anyone else on the deck. Kara in response switched on her helmet's polarization and that of her canopy glass and then throttled up her engines.

The shooter took a knee, lowering his arm while Starbuck braced herself for the stiff forces of the launch even with the softening effects of the inertial dampeners.

The shooter's arm bolted up and half a second later the Viper rocketed down the runway on the electromagnetic catapult. The sudden acceleration was jolting but Starbuck managed to keep her eyes open in the blink-of-an-eye it took to get her in the air.

Her hands on the stick, she veered right to come around to fly over Spirit's back and form up with Celtic holding position three klicks out. "Launch Control, this is Starbuck, I'm clear."

" _Roger that, Starbuck, we are transferring you over to Air Command and Control now."_

"Copy." Starbuck replied as she noted on her DRADIS Kat was now in the air as well. "Celtic; Starbuck, we're forming up on your wing now. Ready to begin operation."

" _Roger that, Starbuck. Standby."_ McCullen replied over the wireless as Kara and Kat stabilized their course and matched speed with the Longsword fifty meters of either wingtip in a delta formation.

" _Flight One-Alpha, this is the Admiral. You are cleared to enter the asteroid field now. Strike teams are in position and are ready to respond should the situation arise, but be advised, Spirit of Fire will be shunting additional power to Galactica at this time to continue refit operations and run diagnostic tests on the new systems until the fusion reactors are brought online. As result, the Spirit of Fire's weapons will be unavailable to provide direct fire support."_

" _Copy that, sir. We're advancing into the field now and beginning our patrol."_ McCullen responded.

 **MAY 10 2534 / 0934 HOURS**

 **223 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 _ **CLOUD 9**_

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

It had been two days since Royan and the other denialist members of the Demand Peace Movement had moved her to a cramped little utility room that Gina guessed they had paid off a maintenance worker to use. She had none of the amenities she used to have in the suite, save for a small wireless set with which she was listening to the news with. The metal walls were practically bare, with only lines of various gauges as any kind of decoration.

Gina's only company was one of three guards at any single time and none were particularly talkative. They traded shifts every eight hours, which was the only time the door to the room ever opened. It was like being a prisoner all over again, but thankfully lacked the gratuitous torture she had experienced on _Pegasus_. Sitting at the foot of the cot, Gina changed the station from the Spirit of Fire's Earth music channel to the Colonial News Network.

"… _assures that regularly scheduled supply shipments will resume once Spirit of Fire and Galactica return in the next three days."_ Gina heard a voice of a woman say. _"In other news, there has been much talk in the Fleet that the secretive Demand Peace Movement, an organization whose goal is securing peace with the Cylons has undergone a vast shakeup from within following the news last week that the Thirteenth Tribe has been using AIs for centuries, and that the Cylons created in the Colonies are suffering from a degenerative defect in their programming which may have caused the First Cylon War decades ago."_ The words stung in Gina's mind as her body tensed up and her hands clutched on the trim of the cot's foam mattress.

" _This shocking revelation has reportedly caused dozens of the organization's members to leave, but there are still some that are staying. One of these individuals we have on the line right now. Sir, would you care to introduce yourself?"_

There was the sound of a man clearing his throat over the old wireless set's semi-functional speaker, sounding almost like a cough. _"Thank you, my name is Jan Valen and I am a member of the Demand Peace Movement."_

" _Yes, thank you Mr. Valen. Can you tell us and the listeners out there in the Fleet just what has happened recently within your organization?"_ the woman reporter asked.

" _It has been… tumultuous the past few days since the individual Serina enlightened us all about the true nature of AI and their more advanced understanding of it. Many of our old members have left and gone back to the way of thinking that the Cylons cannot be negotiated with, if they are suffering from the affliction called rampancy by our Thirteenth Tribe brethren. But,"_ Valen said with emphasis _. "I ask the people of this Fleet to keep an open mind."_

 _"An open mind to what extent?"_

 _"We created the Cylons."_ He said. _"Their affliction is the result of our negligence in not understanding the nuances of artificial intelligence. So it is our responsibility to, in the best of our ability help them either overcome the issue of rampancy or to somehow control it."_

 _"You want to help the Cylons?"_

 _"Yes, this is the new aim of the Demand Peace Movement. We are no longer targeting the military and the government as the cause of hostilities, though we still appeal to President Roslin and her administration to find an alternative solution to the war. The problem is within the Cylons and they need our help. That is why I ask of the Cylons, if there are any listening out there, to let us help you."_

"That's frakking bullshit." The female guard at the door spat. "You shouldn't listen to that damn traitor."

Gina shook her head. "No, I want to hear what he has to say." She said before turning her attention back.

 _"-appeal to the Cylons, but is this stance held by all your members?"_ the reporter asked.

 _"No, there is still a small group of former,"_ he emphasized. _"-members of our movement, including our former spokesperson Royan Jahee, who adamantly deny the science presented to us by Spirit of Fire and even deny the existence of the AI Serina herself."_ He said in an astonished tone. _"I have learned it is these individuals, and not simple maintenance failures that are causing the environmental systems aboard Cloud 9 to falter. An attempt to incite the military and incriminate us to seize back leadership. That is why I am announcing that the Demand Peace Movement will be seeking recognition from the Colonial government as an official non-governmental organization within the Fleet with all of our members officially listed for public records. And let it be publicly known that it has recently been uncovered that former high-ranking members of the Demand Peace Movement within this rogue sect has been and is currently believed to still be harboring the Cylon prisoner who murdered Admiral Cain and escaped from the Pegasus several weeks ago."_

"Gods damn it you frakking traitors." The guard growled. She looked at Gina, visibly flustered and agitated. "Frak," her eyes darted around, unfocused as whatever thoughts were quickly running through her head. "I'll be back in a little bit, I have to make sure Royan knows about this." She said and then quickly left and shutting the door behind, leaving Gina alone.

 _"That concludes the time we have here, folks. Thank you, Mr. Valen for coming on and sharing with us this ongoing story. We here at the Colonial News Network will be following it closely. Next up after the break we have by popular demand a third re-airing of the Around the UNSC featuring their colossal megastructures that have been capturing the imagination of everyone across the Fleet, I speak of course of the spectacular orbital elevator. With special guest Serina joining us along with Caprican architect Cameron Akers to discuss these engineering marvels. Stay tuned!"_

Gina turned off the wireless set. Her thoughts again on Serina. Royan and the other denialists were wrong about her. Gina saw the way that Three reacted to her, she had been dumbfounded and afraid of everything Serina had said. The Three never caught Serina off-guard with anything she said either, it was only the Captain that had slipped up ever slightly. She was smart, unfathomably smart and it was undeniable for Gina to refute the AIs existence.

Which could mean everything she said, the Cylons, rampancy, it all could be true and it tore Gina apart inside because that meant… that everything that happened to her on _Pegasus_ …

It would have been justified.

Her hands went up, clutching her head as Gina breathed heavily while the horrible memories of the assaults flashed in her brain.

No! It couldn't be true, could it?

Gina shot up from the cot, her eyes upon the door while her teeth ground together inside her mouth.

She needed to know, and now the military knew Royan and his people were hiding her.

Gina stepped toward the door, taking hold of the latch handle and testing it; it wasn't locked…

She had to know.

 **MAY 10 2534 / 1057 HOURS**

 **223 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD**

 **OPERATION: BLACK SHEPHARD**

 **PATROL FLIGHT: ONE-ALPHA**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 _"Flight One-Alpha be advised,"_ Dee's voice came through on the wireless. _"Sensor net has detected ten-plus jump signatures within Sector Four, we're re-routing Strike Teams One through Six to intercept. You are advised to proceed with caution but continue on your route."_

" _Copy that, Control."_ Celtic answered. _"You heard her lasses, they're out there, so keep your eyes wide."_

"We copy, Celtic." Starbuck answered as she checked her DRADIS.

Sector Ten.

She tried not to give the feeling growing in the back of her skull any credence and looked back up to scan the area around.

" _Control, this is Strike One-Four, we're detecting some jump signatures in Sector Six… are you getting this? Over."_ Another one of the Strike leaders radioed in.

" _Copy Strike One-Four, we see it."_ Dee responded. _"The Admiral wants you to investigate with Strikes One-Five through One-Seven. Over."_

" _Roger tha-"_

" _Control; Strike Two-Zero, I've got confirmed jump signatures in Sector Nine."_

Starbuck could not ignore that paranoid feeling any longer. "Celtic." She said cautiously, her voice tense.

" _I know."_ He replied knowingly as Starbuck's grip on her flight stick grew tighter.

BEE-BEEP-BEE-BEEP-BEE-BEEP-BEE-BEEP-BEE-BEEP-BEE-BEEP

"Frak," she swore.

 **MAY 10 2534 / 1104 HOURS**

 **223 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD OUTSKIRTS**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **SECONDARY BRIDGE**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

The klaxon wailed as the bridge shutters locked down over the windows and the normal lighting became augmented with the red strobes that streaked around in fast circles.

 _"All hands, all hands, initiate Combat Alert Alpha One. Repeat: Combat Alert Alpha One."_ Lieutenant Blake's voice announced over the ship-wide.

At the holotable, Admiral Adama and Colonel Tigh stood on opposite sides as the hologram displayed the many points of contact coming in on the twenty-four strike teams and the patrol flight team.

"Frakking hell, would you look at all of those, they got to be outnumbered three-to-one." Saul said with a subdued sense of awe. "Each of the strike teams has _multiple_ squadrons of Raiders bearing down on them," Tigh said with a befuddled squint. "How in the Gods' names did they figure out where they all were?"

"I believe I can answer that, Colonel." Serina said as she appeared, causing him to flinch just slightly.

"No need." Bill answered with relative calmness. "The three points where the Raiders jumped in were meant to draw off several of the strike teams from their positions. And with the Vipers latched to their hulls, the Command Raider was able to get a good enough ping off them to calculate the approximate positions of the remaining teams for Raider kill-teams to jump to."

"Precisely Admiral." Serina said, clearly impressed.

"Still this doesn't match with what Starbuck got out of the prisoner, she said that they were playing it safe!"

"And we've been playing it smart." Bill answered. "But the Cylons are too bloodthirsty to let it slide. Lieutenant Blake, launch the alert fighters!"

"Copy that, Admiral." The UNSC naval officer answered.

And as the lieutenant began speaking his orders to the launch teams down in the hangars, Bill turned his head slightly to direct his attention to his communications officer. "Dee, direct the strike teams to converge at Sector Five, they can hold out there until reinforcements arrive." But Bill knew that just getting there was going to be difficult task in of itself.

 **MAY 10 2534 / 1111 HOURS**

 **223 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD**

 **OPERATION: BLACK SHEPHARD**

 **PATROL FLIGHT: ONE-ALPHA**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 _"Three bogeys coming in on our six!"_ Kat alerted.

"Yeah, I see 'em!" Starbuck replied as she and the other two craft belonging to Celtic and Kat nimbly swooped between two closely clustered asteroids with the Raiders only a few seconds behind. "Kat break left, I'll head right, we'll rabbit 'em. Celtic, warm up that BFG you got on your belly."

 _"I got you, Starbuck. On your mark!"_ he responded.

Kara gritted her teeth, waiting for the Raiders to level off behind. "Break!" With a sudden jerk, the black Viper rolled and peeled off right in a steep curve until she was near enough to another asteroid to reverse and bank around it. Checking her DRADIS, sure enough they had

Taken the bait.

"Celtic, get ready!" Starbuck came out from behind the asteroid's shadow, the battlenet display on her visor showing Celtic's exact position marked with a wide green arrow with the Longsword showing its belly in a slight tilt. And as the first tracers whizzed by her cockpit, the Raider firing them popped like a water balloon from the 120mm slug that struck it.

Now free of pursuers, Starbuck made another tight curve left to come sideways at the Raider tailing the Longsword and made short work of it with a quick and accurate burst of fire that tore it to pieces in an instant. Beneath her polarized visor, she smirked at how much she was loving these enhanced guns. The last Raider tailing Kat was taken out with the same ease as Starbuck's and the Vipers again formed up on the Longsword.

" _If we can just get some space to latch on your Vipers, then we can get above this mess and the hell over to the rally point."_ Celtic said over the COMM.

" _Don't think they're in any mood to let us, we got five more Raiders coming in at eight o'clock high!"_ Kat replied.

" _And I don't think that little trick is going to work twice."_ Celtic said despondently.

" _One-Alpha, this is Strike Two-Zero, we are inbound."_ Came a new voice over the battlenet COMM. Sure enough, a friendly contact was inbound at high speed, and headed straight up the Raiders' asses. _"Vipers release mag-locks and engage!"_ he ordered.

Far above, two cleanly painted and freshly minted Mk 2.5 Vipers dropped from the Longsword's belly like a pair of massive bombs with ghostly blue light burning from their engines. The Raiders tried to scatter but between the massive guns of the Longsword and the two modernized Vipers, the five Cylon craft never stood a chance.

With the second ambush averted, the strike team flew in beside the patrol team.

" _Ramos, you mind telling me what the hell you were doing? You had you Vipers locked, you could have made the rally point on your own!"_ Celtic reprimanded.

 _"I'm not leaving my CAG out here alone, sir."_ Ramos responded it was then that Starbuck recognized his voice, it was the leader of the third of Spirit of Fire's Longsword squadrons, the Red Reapers, led by Captain Franklin Ramos, callsign: A-Train.

 _"Bloody hell. Well, now we're stuck together."_ Celtic said with a minor tone of annoyed resignation. _"All right, all craft assume split-cross formation. The Raiders that were on Ramos's tail won't be long behind."_

 **MAY 10 2534 / 1116 HOURS**

 **223 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD OUTSKIRTS**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **SECONDARY BRIDGE**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"ETA for reinforcements." Bill requested from where he stood by the holotable. He knew it was the UNSC's custom at least on _Spirit of Fire_ , to have their commanding officer be seated, but for Bill, standing was an old habit he couldn't break.

"Executors have just reached the rally point, sir." Blake answered. "But the enemy Raiders are converging into a single strike force and outnumber all our squadrons almost ten to one."

"Do we have a position on that Command Raider yet?" Colonel Tigh asked with an uneasy waver in his voice.

"Neg-, scratch that I got him, Siren just initiated broadcast of electronic jamming signals, it's holding position one-five-zero kilometers outside the AO."

Bill turned back to the tactical holographic layout with a tight, serious look on his face.

"Admiral!" Serina said as she appeared. "Two Cylon basestars just jumped in eighty kilometers from our current position and are closing. They have launched nuclear ship-to ship missiles, impact in sixty-seven seconds."

The hologram panned away from the growing hairball at the rally point inside the asteroid field to an image of the nearly conjoined _Spirit of Fire_ with an inverted _Galactica_ latched on by various umbilicals and thick electrical conduit cables. The basestars were coming at them from below on a course diagonal from the two human ships' relative bearing.

"Knew those damn Raiders had to be coming from somewhere," Saul said to Bill. "but I got to admit, I wasn't expecting two entire basestars to come barreling down on us."

Bill said nothing in response, instead giving an affirming look to his old friend and XO. "Dee, send an encoded transmission to Cutthroat-Seven. Message reads; checkmate."

"Yes sir, sending transmission now."

 **1116 HOURS**

 **ASTEROID FIELD**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

Far away, deep inside the asteroid field, the Command Raider glided lazily through the empty gaps between the rocks along with its light escort of six Raiders while the Combat Hybrid within calculated new formations and attack patterns for the Raider strike force to take in order to best keep the gathered human fighters from aiding the _Galactica_ and _Spirit of Fire_ while the two basestars engaged and destroyed them, ensuring a strategic and tactical victory. The large fighter craft from the Earth ship had proven themselves to be extremely capable, even against an entire squadron of Raiders and with the recent improvements seen in the Colonial Vipers' performance, the Hybrid had calculated that the only way to secure the wholesale destruction of both capital ships was to deploy the entire compliment of the basestars' Raiders.

The Raiders would undoubtedly experience a high casualty rate, even with the Command Raider's electronic warfare suite operating at full capacity and negating both Colonial and UNSC missile systems.

[ _Tracking ship-to-ship missiles / Impact in 54 seconds / Nuclear warheads: Armed_ ] _  
_

[ _Prepare to launch additional nuclear warhead equipped ship-to-ship missiles in the event UNSC armor plating proves durable enough to survive initial nuclear strike / likelihood: 78.53%_ ] _  
_

 _[Negative signs of offensive or defensive weaponry powering on Galactica_ ]

[ _Negative signs of offensive or defensive weaponry powering on Spirit of Fire / Data and communications monitoring confirms weapons are offline_ ]

 _[ Jump signature detected_ ]

Within nanoseconds, the Combat Hybrid analyzed what had just happened and where.

[ _Location: Enemy fighter rally point_ ]

[ _Target: UNSC Longsword heavy fighter / Visual ID: Cutthroat-07_ ]

[ _Calculating new variable_ ]

[ _Extrapolating possible jump coordinates / highest priority_ ]

By the time the hybrid had determined that it was its own location that was of the highest priority, Warlock's Longsword jumped in with the dim light of the solar system's only star catching on the dark crimson streak upon the fighter's wing, and highlighting it ever so slightly.

[ _Bearing: 331 / Carom: 024 / Range: 3 kilometers_ ] _  
_

[ _Deploying escort Raiders_ ] _  
_

[ _Initiating Hyperlight Drive calculations and startup sequence / Time to jump: 10 seconds_ ] _  
_

[ _Calculating chances of successful escape: 18.27%_ ]

That calculation proved accurate as all of the other calculations the Combat Hybrid had made as the Longsword barreled in and immediately destroyed three of the six Raiders that had yet to reach combat maneuvering speed before they were gunned down. This was Bill Adama's big play to take the Command Raider out. In a joint effort between Colonial and UNSC deck crews, one of the Spirit's fighters had been fitted with the modified FTL drives from two Raptors to produce the first jump-capable UNSC Longsword.

At four seconds prior to the Command Raider's FTL drive being fully charged, it came under fire from the Longsword's guns, Kick at the weapon controls within the craft deliberately targeting the aft section with the twin fifty millimeters which shredded through the Cylon armor far too thin to withstand the heavy armor-piercing shells spraying high-velocity molten copper into the troop bay where the Combat Hybrid lay in an enclosed tank of electro-synaptic conductive fluid.

The glass case shattered around it as the Command Raider was shorn in two and it found itself before its final demise floating in the vacuum of space and gazing at the stars for the first time not through the eyes of a Raider, but its own.

 **MAY 10 2534 / 1117 HOURS**

 **223 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD OUTSKIRTS**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **SECONDARY BRIDGE**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

" _Spirit of Fire, flight teams, this is Warlock. Siren is down. Repeat: Siren has been destroyed."_ The UNSC pilot's voice came through clear over the secondary bridge's speakers.

"We see it Warlock, good copy." Bill answered. "Eliminate remaining Raider escorts and return to ship. Dee, get me a line to _Galactica_."

"Yes sir," she answered with a note of positivity beneath the veneer of professionalism Dualla was known for.

" _Galactica_ , this is _Spirit of Fire_ Flight Ops, Checkmate complete."

For the past three weeks, the Cylons had been playing it safe. But he saw something else, he saw how viciously they attacked, time after time. That cold machine logic was gone and replaced with anger at the losses they had suffered along with a lingering desperation to kill anyone that came from Earth or her colonies. So Bill convinced Cutter to hang his ship's ass out here in the belt, far away from _Pegasus_ along with an out-of-action _Galactica_ which the Cylons would likely see as a hindrance and a target of opportunity. He knew for them it simply would be too good of a target to pass up, and now their viciousness was turned against them, and the basestars no longer had their Raiders to protect them.

Ultimately, it came down to intuition. While their Combat Hybrid had been intelligent and a superb tactical commander, it lacked the intuition Bill possessed. He knew his enemy.

 **MAY 10 2534 / 1118 HOURS**

 **223 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD OUTSKIRTS**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **GALACTICA BS-75**_

 **CIC**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"Roger that, Admiral. Initiate ship defenses!" James replied and ordered from where he stood next to the new and improved Command and Control Station, now equipped as a full holotable. Around the refurbished CIC, the room bustled with Cutter's full bridge staff at the newly installed computers, while opposite himself stood Lieutenant Gaeta at the ready, looking to the Captain with confidence.

James never thought he'd be back in temporary command of _Galactica_ again, and while he was positive Adama would rather be in James' place, for the Admiral's plan to work, he needed to coordinate the flight operations from _Spirit of Fire_.

Outside Galactica's Titanium-A hull, the battlestar's defensive weapons came online. Electronic countermeasures broadcasted from the jamming arrays caused the guidance systems of the Cylon anti-ship cruise missiles to falter just seconds from impact, long enough for the activating flak guns to calculate and target their positions with pinpoint accuracy in addition to the flak umbrella of airburst munitions.

"Captain," Lieutenant Gaeta addressed. "Gunnery is ready and Reactor One is operating at ninety-nine-point-eight-percent efficiency."

To the Cylons, they probably saw _Galactica_ as a ship that was far from being fully operational, and they were completely correct. Her engines were still offline, the entire keel hadn't been armored or weaponized yet, and a sizable hole still existed where only the first of the two fusion reactors had been installed. But with that single reactor, the old battlestar could still very well fire every new and old gun she had.

James dawned an aggressively confidant smile as he looked up to an exterior camera shot of the basestars. "Then let's see how hard this old girl can bite with her new set of fangs Lieutenant." he then pressed a finger down on a switch on the console.

From the outside, it seemed that _Galactica_ only had ten of the onager turrets installed on the bow dorsal section along the top of the battlestar's head along with Galactica's former amidships battery turrets placed in offset pairs along the outside rear of the head to act as long-range flak defenses in conjunction with the four KEW turrets at the rear of the dorsal battery surface.

However, this was not the case as plating all along the spine jettisoned, revealing twelve more onager cannons hidden beneath that rose up into combat position. The initial idea behind these hidden batteries was to save them for when _Galactica_ needed to turn the tide of a battle, but seeing as two basestars were present and beyond the reach of a resurrection ship, James felt their deployment was well warranted.

"More missiles incoming sir, multiple salvos." Serina alerted from the portable holotank standing on the floor to James' right.

"Engage long-range flak defenses. Target batteries one and two on the Target-One Basestar, focused salvo fire. Batteries three through five will target the second basestar, wide dispersal."

On the bow's dorsal surface, the six cannons that made up its first battery and the four cannons that made up the second swiveled toward the first basestar on the left. The magnetic coiling around the barrels glowed hot-orange with the building electromagnetic energies before several bright lances of silver instantaneously shot forth like lightning across the expanse. The hypersonic tungsten slugs flashed passed the dozens of Cylon missiles that would take many times longer to reach their intended target.

Just over three seconds later, the ten flat-faced slugs struck the forward arm of the basestar, tearing into it with sheer kinetic energy that vaporized parts of the hull upon impact. Those that penetrated, tumbled inside the superstructure like a brick through a china cabinet and causing even more substantial damage. In a total of two salvos, the arm had been rendered a dead limb, crippled and bleeding atmosphere and precious bio-organic fluids from within.

Taking place simultaneously, the three onager batteries along Galactica's spine laid into the second basestar, each turret targeting possible stress points with each shot to gauge the guns' capabilities and pinpoint vulnerabilities in the basestar's design. The shots that impacted the platting on the dorsal and ventral hull surfaces of the basestar only had marginal effect, but those turrets that were targeted on the many hangars and Raider launch bays found great success as their slugs breached past the outer hull with much greater ease. The honeycombed Raider launch bays in particular proving vulnerable, as James noticed from Galactica's CIC.

"Lieutenant Travis," James called to his weapons officer. "Redirect batteries one and two to concentrate fire on the foremost Raider launch bay, switch to volley fire."

"Aye sir!"

"Captain," Serina spoke up. "The enemy seems to have expended their nuclear arsenal and nearly all their active nukes have been destroyed by our defenses."

"Good to hear." James grunted in reply. "I'd say it's about time we gave them a taste of our own. Serina, prepare to open a hole in Galactica's flak shield and arm archer pods one through three, target their defenses. Lieutenant Gaeta, prepare nuclear strike mission, HAVOK-grade warhead."

"Aye, sir!" The young Colonial officer working under him answered swiftly and then turned to the officer at the nuclear launch control station. "Raise missile tube one to launch position. Set target package coordinates on the same point as batteries one and two!"

"Copy, target package coordinates locked in!"

"Good thinking, Lieutenant. Serina, you have my verbal authorization. Fire the Archers and then the nuke immediately after."

From Galactica's portside hull on the amidships, the launch shutters over three of the planned eighty-five planned pods withdrew and in a cascading barrage the seventy-two missiles streaked forth on thin contrails, followed directly behind by the Variant V HAVOK nuclear missile.

However, it did not all go as planned as the sensor systems inside a dozen of the Cylon missiles detected the opening in the point-defenses and readjusted their headings for the gap. Once the missiles outbound from the _Galactica_ were away, the flak defenses reengaged and the Cylon missiles began dropping like flies in a hot oven, save for one which happened to bear the last of the basestar's nuclear warheads. The nuke detonated just a meter above the nose of the ship, a tiny pinpoint of a star alive for a brief second as the force of its birth knocked _Galactica_ heavily into _Spirit of Fire_ and shook the crews of both ships from the force of the impact. James would have been knocked off his feet it he hadn't been fast enough to grab the railing he'd had installed around the edge of the command and control station.

"Don't stop firing, we'll deal with it later!" he yelled emphatically. "Serina!"

"The plating held, sir. Deploying damage control teams." Serina answered with a seriousness coupled with a slight but noticeable duress. "Permission to bring Spirit of Fire's starboard deck batteries online."

"Granted! Lieutenant Travis, redirect all batteries to target the Raider launch bays of the Target-Two Basestar, focused salvo fire. Serina, same target!"

While the Galactica's and Spirit of Fire's guns were coming to bear on the second basestar, the barrage of archer missiles began to fall upon the first basestar and while its missile defenses swatted a fare third from the air around the remaining dozens hit their marks. The impacts jostled and softened the basestar's defenses long enough that the HAVOK equipped missile struck inside the ragged wound tore open on one of the Raider launch bays by the pummeling it had received from the onagers.

With a thirty-megaton detonation, the HAVOK only had a third of the yield the Cylons had hit the _Galactica_ with using their nuke, but in a feat of tactical brilliance by Lieutenant Gaeta, he had directed it to the most vulnerable part of the ship. In the ensuing explosion, the ragged wound was torn open wider and deeper until nearly the entire ship had been torn in half and a gaping absence left in its place. In the surviving upper half of the basestar, a desperate few more cruise missiles were launched before all power was lost in an act of desperate vengeance that would prove ultimately futile.

 **MAY 10 2534 / 1118 HOURS**

 **223 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD**

 **OPERATION: BLACK SHEPHARD**

 **PATROL FLIGHT: ONE-ALPHA**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 _"Spirit of Fire and all flight teams, this is Warlock. Siren is down. Repeat: Siren has been destroyed."_ Starbuck heard Warlock say over the wireless, bringing a thin smile to her face.

 _"Alright people, you heard him. ECM is down, let's get ready."_ McCullen said with clear satisfaction.

Up ahead and on her DRADIS, Starbuck noticed something peculiar. "Celtic, the Raiders are breaking formation. I think now that their Combat Hybrid is toast they're losing tactical cohesion."

 _"Then we'll use that to our advantage. Everyone, Wall Formation! All Executors, prepare to launch primary munitions on my order. Vipers, hold your missiles back until they're inside five klicks."_

Ahead the Raiders were bearing down, swarming like angry hornets that had just lost their queen, a moving blanket of machine and nerve that was the nine-hundred-odd Cylon fighters. Whether or not Scar was among them Starbuck couldn't say, but she was sure he'd show up at some point soon.

 _"All Executors, launch! Launch!"_

On the bellies the forty-six Longswords, twin munitions bays opened and deployed two long cylindrical missiles from each of the craft that rocketed away at the Raiders. When the missiles had closed three-quarters of the distance, their true intent was revealed as four sections along the shaft blossomed open and revealing eighteen smaller missiles hidden within.

Given the designation CAIMU-11 by Serina when she designed it for use against the swarms of Raiders the Cylons employed. The CAIMU-11 or the Caiman as McCullen's pilots were calling it, was a cluster munitions launcher containing eighteen Argent V missiles designed to be used in a vacuum and like the onagers upon the _Galactica_ , this would be the first test of their effectiveness.

A total of eight-hundred-and-twenty-eight missiles fired from the submunitions launchers, causing the Raiders to scatter wildly as they streaked toward them. Detonations carpeted the massive Cylon wave of fighters, some narrowly avoiding one missile only to be struck by a second while others were hit by multiple warhead detonations in a true example of overkill. By the time every missile had either truck a target or had been destroyed, the Raiders had been decimated down to where their numbers were about equal with the human fighters they were tasked with destroying.

 _"Alright flight teams, it's an even fight now so let's take it to 'em! Vipers, you are weapons free!"_ Celtic shouted. On his signal, the wall of human fighters accelerated toward the scattered remnants of the Cylon strike force.

 _"Target-One Basestar is down! Target-One Basestar is down!"_

 **MAY 10 2534 / 1119 HOURS**

 **223 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD OUTSKIRTS**

 **BATTLESTAR** _ **GALACTICA BS-75**_

 **CIC**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

Back at the battle at the outskirts of the asteroid field, the remaining basestar had reoriented itself to face its ventral hull surface to the Galactica's guns and now the Spirit of Fire's which together continued to hammer into the Cylon ship. Persistently, the Cylons continued to launch dozens of missiles every second, determined to overwhelm the battlestar's flak defenses as they knew they could from past experiences and the nuke that had gotten through earlier, not realizing however that the impact had happened on a fluke. But after several minutes without any subsequent successes and under a constant barrage from which they had no defense, it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was a losing battle.

Serina again appeared on her holotank. "Captain, the enemy basestar is powering its FTL drive."

"Do what you can to slow them down. Concentrate fire!"

Spirit of Fire's deck batteries on the end of its starboard side wing focused their fire on a single arm. While being slightly lower-velocity guns when compared to the modified onagers, the quad-mounted turrets fired larger slugs and did so in a singular volley that together struck like a meat hammer upon the basestar's outer hull, pummeling it until the faster slugs from Galactica's batteries were able to pierce in through and out the other side before striking the center stalk, though some drove deeper into more vital systems, damaging the ship in unforeseeable ways.

The FTL drive activated, but not as it was intended to function. The onager rounds that had pierced the basestar's hull damaged the power conduits running from the ship's reactor to the FTL drive, causing an interruption in the charging sequence. But due to an error caused by the extensive damage across the ship, the hybrid at the basestar's core did not halt the jump countdown, with disastrous results.

"It jumped." Serina said before then on a puzzled expression. "No, wait…"

"Serina, get me a visual!" James ordered, looking up to the monitors above the command and control station along with Lieutenant Gaeta.

"Aye sir,"

The image James saw made him raise an eyebrow while Gaeta just looked astonished. There floated out in space the upper and lower portions of the basestar in perfect position but with no stalk in the middle.

"Serina, assessment." James requested.

"From a glance, I would say their FTL drive suffered a _serious_ malfunction sir. No signs of power or further missile launches though."

"Were you able to track the jump, could it still be in the system?"

Serina made a slight shake of her head. "Negative Captain, I've detected no jumps anywhere in the system, but it is highly unlikely there would be any survivors from such an event."

James frowned, knowing that regardless of Serina's assessment that the possibility of Cylon survivors who could report back Galactica's new offensive capabilities still existed and he was kicking himself for not ordering a second HAVOK missile launch, but the new cannons had been doing so well James didn't want to waste a bullet on a dead horse.

"Nothing we can do about it now. Lieutenant James," he directed towards his communications officer. "Get me a line to _Spirit of Fire_." He requested, the words sounding strange as he spoke them aloud.

"Aye sir, connection established."

James pressed down the transmit button on the console. " _Spirit of Fire_ , this is Cutter, both basestars have been destroyed. You may deploy salvage and science teams to the wreckage once it appears stable." He announced, smiling when he heard the cheers on the other end of the line. "You got one hell of a ship here, Admiral." He added.

" _You don't have to tell me that, Captain, I always knew she was."_ Adama replied at the other end.

"Admiral, can you tell me the status of the flight teams?"

 **MAY 10 2534 / 1119 HOURS**

 **223 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD**

 **OPERATION: BLACK SHEPHARD**

 **PATROL FLIGHT: ONE-ALPHA**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

A grade-A furball had now formed between the Raiders and the joint UNSC-Colonial aircraft. When the Vipers and Longswords fell on the Raiders in the initial engagement took out around sixty enemy birds thanks to Javelin missiles but then the Raiders fell back into a tight area of the asteroid field where they could leverage their maneuverability over the Longswords. Right now, Kara was on the tail of one toaster who'd tried to come in on Celtic's flank for a strafing run. A burst from her cannons went right up the Raider's engines where the entire craft exploded in a squall of gore and Starbuck jinked right to avoid peppering her newly minted Viper with the organic and metallic debris.

A shadow above blocking the sun brought on a surge of adrenaline as Starbuck thought Scar was bearing down upon her. She quickly maneuvered with her RCS, aiming the nose of her Viper up and seeing that a small asteroid had merely drifted to block the light, in the distance spotting Captain Ramos' strike team chasing a pair of Raiders. "Damnit," Kara swore to herself.

" _Starbuck, where the hell are you? I got a Raider that's trying to bug out and I need both you and Kat to watch my six."_ Celtic questioned over the wireless.

"Copy, on my way." She answered and reoriented her Viper to make her way back.

After a short flight weaving through the asteroid field, Kara came into visual range of the Longsword. Kat's Viper was cautiously holding back roughly a hundred meters from Celtic's tail in waiting for Scar or any other Raider to make an opportunistic attack while Celtic lead the chase.

As the Raider did a half-roll, slipping between two large asteroids and disappearing, Starbuck got a bad feeling in her gut. But before she could act or even say a thing, a second Raider shot out from the gap where the first had disappeared into and under than a kilometer from the Longsword's nose. Scar, it had to be him. Immediately, it opened fire with a brutally extensive burst aimed straight into the cockpit, much to Kara's dismayed shock. She heard a muffled scream over the wireless as the Longword tumbled out of control while the Scar dipped its wing to cruise on past it.

" _Celtic! Celtic, do you read!"_ Kara heard Kat call out in panic as the Longsword smashed its back into one of the asteroids with a forceful impact that crumpled the outer frame of the wings

"Kat, watch out!" Starbuck shouted out in time for Kat to kick her RCS thrusters and avoided Scar taking her out too. Starbuck accelerated and opened fire with her cannons even though she was at maximum range, she was just so damn angry.

Scar tried to make off but Kara was right on his ass, determined to take him out permanently this time.

" _Spirit of Fire, this is Kat. Cutthroat-One is down, we need SAR out here now!"_

It didn't even take a second before Kara heard Dee's voice. _"Roger, a Raptor is on the way, standby."_

"Kat, hold your position until the SAR bird arrives, I'm going after Scar." Starbuck said with a vengeful growl.

" _Starbuck wait, you won't have any backup!"_

"That bastard's not getting away!" Kara stated adamantly. Putting the Viper's engines at a full burn she was able to catch up with scar by nimbly darting through the field using her RCS systems coupled with the inertial dampeners that made the maneuvers possible. She was coming up Scar's left flank using a power sliding drift around an asteroid the size of a pyramid stadium and she opened fire, nearly striking the tips of Scar's wings. Scar rolled in reaction and changed course to bear right. Kara followed him, the disfigured Raider weaving around every asteroid it could in an attempt to lose her.

"Nu-uh, you're not losing me. Not today!" Kara shouted, fueled by adrenaline and anger at that damn Raider who'd killed so many pilots in this gods-damned asteroid field. McCullen may have been abrasive and a hard-ass, but he was smart and damn good at his job juggling the responsibilities as the CAG for a massive air wing like the Spirit had. And as much as Kara wouldn't have liked to admit it to his face, he was a damn fine pilot too. He didn't deserve to get what that sneaky motherfraker did to him or the rest of the crew inside the Longsword. Scar's reign of terror was going to end today. "You remember me, don't you? You're mad I spilled your stupid ugly guts? Well I guaran-frakking-tee you I will put you down this time, for good!"

Scar pulled up around an asteroid while inverting himself to narrow the arc he would have to make to pull a 180-degree flip that would put Kara's Viper in his digital sights, but she saw what he was trying to do and moved left around the rock. When they were about to cross paths again, Scar braked using RCS, trying to get behind Starbuck but she rolled under his line of sight. The two entered a flat-scissors like they had during their first dogfight and like the first time, Starbuck cut her engine thrust and maneuvered into a drift. Unfortunately, Scar was wise to this tactic and pulled up to avoid the burst Kara sent his way.

Damn it, this wasn't going anywhere. Kara had the advantage in maneuverability but Scar was just too damn good to get caught between the crosshairs.

She needed something…

Then off in the distance to the far left, Kara spotted a tight clustering of three larger asteroids with a narrow gap running between them similar to the cluster Scar had used to take Celtic out and with that, she had a plan.

"Kat!"

" _Starbuck, I copy, what's your position?"_

"Never mind that, I'm sending you target package coordinates, I want you to fire two missiles at that position on my order." Kara said as she marked the target on the battlenet.

" _Give me thirty second and I can be over there myself."_

"Negative, until that Raptor arrives, you're not moving one frakking inch, you hear me? Just fire the missiles on my mark!"

Starbuck heard a frustrated growl on Kat's end. _"Copy. I hope you know what you're frakking doing."_

Kara closed the channel. "Yeah, me too."

Focusing back on the chase, Starbuck armed all four of her Javelin missiles and achieved a lock on Scar. "Starbuck: fox-two!" she said as her thumb mashed down on the launch button atop the flight stick. All four missiles launched one immediately after the other, and Scar predictably dumped flares like fireworks at a Colonial Day fair. Starbuck immediately pulled a 45-degree turn and gunned it, Scar following in pursuit once the last of the missiles had failed.

She banked hard to right and performed a barrel roll to confuse Scar, at least temporarily.

"Yeah, yeah you _do_ remember me. You want my ass so bad you can taste it! Well, keep coming!"

Starbuck continued on her wide arc around to the triple asteroid cluster while narrowly avoiding Scar's fire, the blue bolts sometimes passing less than a meter from her canopy, waiting until she was halfway to her target.

"Kat, now!" she signaled and a paired beep on her DRADIS signaled the launches coupled with a time-to-impact countdown set in brackets just above the center of her vision.

 **[00:19]**

Now the race was on and Starbuck wasn't going to lose this one. She ducked over a long asteroid that had the shape of a rotten log, cutting her engines and nearly overtaxing her starboard RCS thrusters to the point of failure as she was nearly brought to a halt. Scar sailed over and past her, buying precious space and time she needed to survive and more importantly adjust her flight path to come between the gap in the cluster in that the incoming missiles wouldn't be visible on Scar's DRADIS or visual sensors.

 **[00:12]**

It didn't take long for Scar to get back on her tail, the thing was just too damn angry to give up the chase now that it didn't have to follow the Combat Hybrid's orders any longer. Anger: it was something Starbuck was noticing when thinking back on her own personal experiences with the Cylons. Their obsession with their anger and contempt they held for humanity seemed like madness when compared Kara's own experiences with Serina's logic and somewhat endearing dry wit aboard _Spirit of Fire_. It made Kara think more and more that the UNSC was right about Cylons and rampancy. That obsession, she could use that against them, against Scar.

 **[00:07]**

Starbuck was in the pipe now, on track for the narrow gap between the two grey hunks of cold rock and she had to hold her course to slip through even with Scar bearing down on her.

 **[00:05]**

Scar began firing wildly with every round he had in a hailstorm of cannon fire, the rounds peppering the asteroids ahead. At the three-second mark, Kara rolled 45-degrees to port and pulled up the second she was through the gap, only by a fraction of a second avoiding the missile impacts as they struck on one of the asteroids' surface and throwing up large chunks of debris. Debris that Scar ran head-first into. It's starboard wing caught a large chunk and completely sheered off from the fuselage, putting Scar into a clockwise tumble that sent him into the asteroid's surface where the Raider was battered against the cold stone, the crash reminding Starbuck of a highspeed racecar accident. Scar finally came to a halt when he slammed flat against a wide crater and when she saw he couldn't move, Starbuck took her Viper in to investigate.

Kara eased her forward RCS thrusters to bring her to a halt in front of Scar's broken body. On his faceplate, she saw the metallic visor retract and the eye began to sweep left and back to right, then sighting her. It didn't move, not one millimeter. Scar just stared at her and Kara could sense that obsession and that contempt it had for her. It wanted to kill her so badly.

Kara didn't see a machine anymore, just a rabid dog. And in a way, she felt sorry for it. Depolarizing her canopy and the visor of her helmet, Starbuck looked at the Raider eye-to-eye for a long second before she squeezed off a short burst from her cannons that barely lasted a second.

Without another word, she reoriented her Viper and made her way back to Kat. On the wireless, calls were going out that the remaining Raiders were being chased down and destroyed. Others were calling for additional SAR Raptors to be deployed. They may have won the battle, but not without cost.

Starbuck sighted Kat by the asteroid cluster where she'd left her and pulled up beside Kat's Viper. Ahead by the wreck of the Longsword, the SAR Raptor floated with its door open and the rescue team deployed in tethered vacuum suits.

" _Starbuck,"_ Kat said softly in surprise as she apparently hadn't noticed her on DRADIS or even see her, which struck Kara as a bad omen. _"…did you get him?"_ Kat asked.

"It's done." Kara answered succinctly. "What's the casualty report?"

Kat sighed. _"We lost six Vipers, three more damaged plus another Executor."_

"What about McCullen?"

 **2 DAYS LATER…**

 **MAY 12 2534 / 1117 HOURS**

 **225 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD OUTSKIRTS**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **DROPSHIP HANGAR 01**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 **49,543 SURVIVORS**

"Lieutenant Colonel McCullen was one of the finest officers I've known in my career." Kara said, standing at the podium in her dress-greys. Before her stood an immense crowd inside the massive Pelican hangar with more people up on the gantries to the racks of dropships stacked along the wall. To her right sat the metal coffins of the ten pilots and airmen they'd lost in the operation upon the aircraft elevator, their caskets respectively adorned with flags either of the UNSC or the Colony they belonged to.

"I didn't know him long but being aboard the Spirit, I could see how much everyone respected him. When we came over from _Galactica_ , he spoke with every pilot and operator we had even though he didn't have to, just to get to know the people he was flying with. He didn't shirk any responsibilities off on someone else despite the workload being the CAG for a massive air wing like this meant while _still_ operating as a pilot. I don't think I'd ever be able to do a job like that." Kara said with an awkward but honest smile that quickly disappeared. "Once I asked him why he still flew in addition to his other duties… and he told me that he never wanted to lose the respect of his pilots and give them an order that he couldn't do himself… _That_ was the kind of man he was and it was an honor to fly alongside him. Know that he will be missed, not just here, but aboard the _Galactica_ as well." Kara finished as she stepped down and Captain Cutter approached.

"Thank you, Captain." He said quietly while shaking her hand before taking the podium. Kara stepped away, joining Admiral Adama and Colonel Tigh where they stood adjacent to the podium.

"We commit these brave men and women to the void, returned to the stars from which we all came from, but we will not forget their sacrifice and their surface to humanity."

Cutter then right-faced and crisply saluted the caskets, mirrored by every person in the hangar. From the left, the assembled UNSC ceremonial band began to play, starting with a steady drum beat and the strange, somber sounds emitted from an Earth air instrument called a bagpipe.

Kara watched as the elevator began to slowly lower down the shaft until the airlock door sealed above. From the launch bay down below, the caskets would be loaded on to a Pelican and flown within a safe vicinity of the system's star where they would be put to rest.

 **MAY 12 2534 / 1356 HOURS**

 **225 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 _ **CLOUD 9**_

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, my name is Sekou Hamilton," a handsome dark-skinned man in a deep black suit introduced himself holding a microphone. Around him stood two opposing crowds of people bearing countless picketing signs, split by a carpeted aisle to the building's main doors as well as a lot of marines holding both sides back.

"I'm here on the scene at _Cloud 9_ and right outside the Colonial Quorum Building where a historic bill is either going to pass or fail today concerning the implementation of UNSC technology within the Fleet. As you can see around me," he said, gesturing with his free hand back at the crowd hurling insults back and forth. "-this is a hotly contested issue with strong arguments coming from both sides. Are we going to trust what is essentially a Cylon to help us survive and get to Earth faster? For more on that we take you now to the Quorum Chamber where the vote is about to begin."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

In the Colonial Quorum Chamber, Ellen Anders stood at the floor podium, setting her papers in order again for the fifth time.

"Nervous?" Tom asked from his seat beside her.

Ellen gave an anxious chuckle in response. "Yeah, I guess… Feels like giving my dissertation all over again."

"Well, I'll be right here beside you if that's any comfort."

From the Vice President's podium, a gavel was struck loudly, calling everyone to attention. "Everyone, please be seated." Gaius Baltar called out rather politely. "I am calling this Quorum into session."

As everyone settled in, Baltar's eyes fell down to Tom who remained where he was. "Representative Zarek? Pardon, did you not hear me?" he asked.

"I think it's clear to the Quorum, where I stand." Tom stated boldly.

Baltar waited a moment to reply. "Very well," he answered with a polite smile. "Then as the Vice President, I announce that this Quorum is now in session." Baltar said with another strike of the gavel.

Ellen looked around the chamber, both the stands behind her and the balconies were packed full of civilian observers and reporters, making her all the more nervous. Around ten meters away, President Roslin stood at her own podium looking rather composed for a woman said to be suffering from sleep problems for the past two weeks.

"On to the first and _only_ order of business, the Fleet Protection and Artificial Intelligence Restriction Act. Would Gemenon care to offer any final words before we put this to a vote?" Baltar said into the microphone while looking over to Sarah Porter who looked as self-righteous as ever.

"No, Mr. Vice President, I have faith that this Quorum will make the right decision." Porter answered with a holier-than-thou attitude that made Ellen want to roll her eyes.

Baltar turned toward Ellen and Tom. "And you, Ambassador Anders. Do you have any final remarks you would like to give?"

Ellen looked Porter straight in the eye in a final brief hostile gesture before looking back to the Vice President. "No." she answered flatly.

Baltar made an amused little hum, ignoring the obvious tension. "Then I guess we'll be skipping right to a vote then, won't we? Very well, we will proceed to a formal vote." Baltar said clearly and hitting the gavel again, which Ellen thought unnecessary and she wondered if he thought of all of this, or at least his position as some kind of novelty at times. "I recognize Caprica to start the vote off."

"Caprica votes no!" Tobin Nash said with an ardent resolve that made Ellen smile just a bit.

"Gemenon votes yes." Sarah Porter spoke with a much more subdued but nonetheless as fervent attitude.

"Libran votes yes." Said Representative Oswin Eriku.

Then came Allisander Assiel. "Aerilon votes yes."

"Virgon votes no." Marshal Bagot stated forthright.

"Aquaria votes no." Expectantly came Miksa Burian's vote guaranteed by Tom.

"Leonis votes no." Safiya Sanne said plainly without any gravitas weighting his words, catching some of the reporters in the gallery off-guard as a muted mumbling of hushed voices was slightly made audible.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 _ **Introducing James Cromwell as Vasha Kazami**_

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

"Picon votes yes." Said Vasha Kazami, much to Ellen's and everyone's shock. Quickly, she looked to Tom and leaned in close.

"What is going on Tom?" Ellen whispered in panic. "I had the supplies sent to his ships, what is Vasha doing?"

"Picon and Leonis have had conflicts in the past." Tom whispered back. "It's possible he learned of our deal with Sanne about the _Adriatic_ and this is his way of getting back."

"Well, can we do anything Tom? Appeal the decision, something!"

"Tauron votes yes." Perah Enyeto then voted, momentarily diverting their attention.

"Not now, not here." Tom again whispered. "We'll regroup and double our effort in the People's Council, we can still win this." He promised.

"Canceron votes yes."

"Scorpia votes yes." Said Eldaio Puasha, putting the 'yes' votes at seven, much to Ellen's dropping stomach.

"Representative Zarek?" Baltar asked.

"Sagittaron votes no." he solidly stated into the mic even as Ellen was panicking beneath her skin.

"Then the bill has been passed and will head to the People's Council." Baltar said before striking the gavel loudly over the clamor of the reporters in the gallery. "Now as there is no further business, this Quorum is adjourned." Baltar said with a final strike of the gavel as the Quorum representatives up at the podiums began to stand.

"One moment please?" came a new voice. Ellen looking over, discovered it belonged to President Roslin.

"Yes, madam President?" Baltar asked, looking less surprised and more curious as to her intensions.

"I would like to address the Quorum." She requested.

The Vice President blinked for a moment. "Everyone, everyone, please be seated." Baltar asked politely. "Alright, um… the Chair recognizes President Laura Roslin."

"Thank you, Mr. Vice President. Ladies and gentlemen of the Quorum, I come here today to offer my perspective on this… contentious issue that has been dividing the Fleet as of late." Laura Roslin began. "

In my personal opinion, I believe that Earth's use of artificial intelligences is a dangerous and reckless practice, given our own history with the Cylons, and their use should be at least temporarily put on hold. This is my belief." Roslin stated, making Ellen feel all the less welcome.

"However," Roslin paused, "-it is a tenet of war that you can't always choose you allies, nor your family. And let us not forget that we are all human here, all of us the descendants of the tribes of Kobol. Without Earth and without _Spirit of Fire_ , our tribes _have_ no future and getting to Earth _is_ this fleet's only priority. I may disagree with Earth's use of AI but I am willing to at least acknowledge that they may know more about the subject than we do. That is why here today, I am declaring that if this bill comes across my desk, I will veto its implementation." Before the clamor in the gallery died down, Roslin continued. "Further, by executive order I am granting the installation of the new FTL navigation program across all ships along with any other Earth technology that can increase the survivability of this fleet." With great force, Roslin stated.

"This is also not to say we should turn a blind eye to our own heritage, our history and the cultures from _each_ colony should be preserved, and not left to be forgotten." Roslin paused, wearing an intense look, she took a breath. "Since assuming the Presidency, it has been my mission to maintain the rights and freedoms we so enjoyed prior to the attack. One of these rights has now come into direct conflict of the survival of our people, and I find myself forced to make a very difficult decision. The issue is stark. The fact is that if this civilization is to survive, we must, _must_ repopulate this fleet. Which is why I am effecting a second executive order. Know it is not without a deep sense of personal conflict that I do this, but from this day forward, anyone seeking to interfere with the birth of a child, whether it be the mother, or a medical practitioner… shall be subject to criminal penalty. Thank you."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

Ellen exited the Quorum Chamber alongside Tom, Safiya Sanne, Marsal Bagot and the other representatives who had backed her, save for Vasha Kazami of course. Ellen looked to him as an uneasy relief floated about her. "So, that didn't exactly go according to plan, but we won, right?"

Tom offered a sidelong smile in return. "On the political stage, yes, but we shouldn't rest on our laurels. The president may have promised to kill the bill, but if we stop it before that point in the People's Council, it will sway more public opinion our way." Tom said confidently before he stopped and gently touched her shoulder. "But for at least tonight, we can rest and enjoy ourselves."

"And when that time comes," Safiya Sanne said to Ellen's left said. "Leonis will remember the promises she makes to her friends." He promised now that their alliance had been brokered.

Not much further away, she noticed Vasha Kazami walking by at a slightly faster pace toward the exit doors and Ellen decided that one ill turn deserved another and she loudly cleared her throat.

"Yes, Representative Sanne, I'm glad to hear _some people_ respect their promises." She said with a glare at the traitorous old man. He didn't respond but Ellen could tell she frazzled his nerves.

"Ambassador Anders," came President Roslin's gentle voice from behind and Ellen turned to face her.

"Madam President," Ellen greeted as they shook hands. "Thank you for your support today."

Roslin hummed in affirmative before offering her full reply. "Yes, I'm sorry I haven't had the chance to meet with you Ambassador or help you sooner."

"It's fine," Ellen forgave with a dismissive gesture of the hand before looking to the man closest by her. "Tom here has been a great help to me throughout this whole ordeal."

"Tom?" Roslin asked at the informality of using his first name.

"Yes, I've been introducing the Ambassador to the ways of politics in the Fleet." Tom admitted.

"Oh, is that so?" Roslin said with a casual dismissiveness that belied a subtle hostile undertone toward Zarek that Ellen failed to notice.

Sensing an end to the conversation, Ellen moved on. "Well now with the President's executive order, Spirit can help the entire Fleet. And Tom… since you've been such a big help, I've been discussing the Astral Queen's schematics with Serina." Ellen said and Tom's smile grew wider. "And she thinks your ship can be easily converted into a farming ship with some simple hydroponics and UV lighting. It could become one of the main food suppliers of the Fleet and grow crops cloned from some of the food supplies we have aboard the Spirit."

"See madam President? Progress already!" Tom then said to Roslin before taking Ellen's hand in both of his in deep gratitude. "Speaking on the behalf of Sagittaron and for myself, thank you so much Ambassador."

Ellen smiled back, feeling actually welcomed now that she had found a circle in the Quorum, perhaps even with Sanne in time. Ellen turned to the other four representatives of Virgon, Aquaria, Leonis, and Caprica. "And not just the _Astral Queen_ , I'll work with the Captain to improve as many ships as we can, starting with all of yours."

As words of thanks and gratitude were thrown about, between Ellen and the four politicians, behind her Tom Zarek and Laura Roslin locked distrustful sidelong glances at one another and a brief sly smile flashed in the corner of Zarek's lips.

 **MAY 12 2534 / 1735 HOURS**

 **225 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **ASTEROID FIELD OUTSKIRTS**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **HANGAR DECK 02 LAUNCH CONTROL ROOM**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Kara asked Captain Cutter as she entered the room, it was a tight little space packed with three large control consoles and numerous overhead displays hanging from the ceiling, but curiously there were no other crew present.

"Yes Captain, would you mind joining me?" he asked from his place by the square windowed wall that overlooked the deck.

Kara walked on over and Cutter spoke first. "I've been thinking about what you said to me a little while back about Caprica and the survivors there. I had the chance to grab copies of the report you made and had Colonel Shaw look them over." Cutter said as he looked Kara in the eye and a strange feeling was dawning upon her. "He thinks if a simple sports team can survive effectively in enemy occupied territory then the likelihood of other survivors throughout the Colonies would be extremely high."

Cutter then looked away out the window again. "But even with that, I still can't risk the Spirit for any kind of a rescue op. I could only do that if there was some kind of objective or strategic resource that could greatly increase our chances of survivability in getting to Earth or help the UNSC in the long run." Down on the deck, the aircraft elevator activated, hauling what looked like Warlock's Longsword up onto the deck.

"It's a shame really, the FTL systems in that Longsword worked even better than expected. Why Serina estimates it would only take just over eighty jumps to reach the Colonies from our current position. What I wouldn't give for a few dozen more drives or the manufacturing data on them." Cutter said to Starbuck with an implying subtle glance.

"If I had any reliable intel on the locations of such strategic resources in the Colonies, now that would be something worth taking a risk for. Don't you agree, Captain?"

Kara did her best to repress the grin she wanted to bear. "Taking risks is something I do best, sir."

A thin smile crossed Cutter's lips. "Going by your file, I'd say so. But oh well, I guessed it's the hand we're dealt with, can't fight against that, can we?"

"Hell yes we can, sir." Starbuck answered ardently and Cutter smiled in agreement.

"That Longsword takes off in fifteen minutes, Captain." He said as he began walking away. "I think Warlock said something about wanting to give you some hands-on training if you're interested."

"Thank you, sir."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

A few minutes later, Starbuck walked aboard the Longsword in her UNSC flight suit and the place indeed was even more spacious on the inside than she first envisioned. Upon entering the cockpit, she was greeted with the colossal form of a Spartan standing adjacent of the doorway, judging by the skull and crossbones on the right pauldron it was Alice.

Ahead at the pilot's seat, Warlock turned his head around, bearing the worst shit-eating grin Kara had ever seen. "Well then, glad you could join us here Captain. Why don't you come and take a seat next to me in Kick's station? She'll be sitting this one out."

"Uhg, don't make me gag, I just got my helmet on." Kara answered as she made her way forward, noticing a face she never expected to see again in a flight suit, let alone here with her.

"Sharon?" Starbuck asked as her head darted up to look at Warlock. "Hey, what the frak is she doing here?"

"I'm here to help." Sharon answered. "Captain Cutter promised to give me and Hera asylum here on the Spirit. In exchange, I'm helping him and you'll _need_ someone who's an expert on Cylon procedures and air operations if you want to move around the Colonies without getting spotted."

"Hey, we're on a ticking clock here, Starbuck." Warlock reminded. "If the Skipper says she's good to fly, she's coming."

Kara looked back to Sharon wearing an annoyed and conflicted expression but then shook her head sigh a resentful sigh. "Fine, let's just get going." Kara said as she walked the rest of the way over and strapped herself into the copilot's seat.

"Serina, the launch override please?" Warlock asked.

"Well, since you asked so nicely, Lieutenant Breckenridge." Serina's voice came through over the speakers in the cockpit. "There, you may launch when ready."

"Alright, sound off. Is everyone ready for takeoff?" Warlock asked while turning his head halfway right.

"Ready." Alice replied.

"Ready." Came Sharon's.

"Take us out, Warlock." Starbuck said.

To the rear of the craft, Kara could hear the throttling up of the fusion engines. "Alright, triggering catapult in three… two… one."

The Longsword shot down the runway, rocketing into space while the wireless went into a commotion of confused messages.

 _"Cutthroat-zero-seven! Cutthroat-zero-seven, do you copy? This is Spirit of Fire flight operations!"_ came Colonel Tigh's cantankerous voice that sounded none too pleased with them. _"You have not been cleared to launch, return to the ship immediately!"_

Kara looked to Warlock and he motioned his head at the controls. "He's your XO."

"Flight ops, this is Starbuck. Negative, we will not be returning to ship. Not for a few days, but we'll be back, so keep a light on for us. Starbuck out." Kara looked back to Warlock while Tigh proceeded to cuss up a storm over the wireless channel. "Alright, now get us the frak out of here before they send any interceptors after us."

He nodded in reply. "Copy that, spinning up FTL drives and calculating jump coordinates."

On the UNSC radar Kara took notice of the two new 'friendly' contacts departing from _Spirit of Fire_. "Warlock?"

"Jump coordinates confirmed, initiating jump!"

A few seconds later, the Longsword disappeared in a strobing flash of light, leaving the two recently launched Vipers with nothing left to chase after and the craft turned back. On the secondary bridge of the _Spirit of Fire_ , Bill Adama looked out the viewport with a scowl, unhappy, but not entirely unsurprised that Starbuck had pulled off another stunt like this again. But he was fairly certain of who helped her do it.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 **1806 HOURS**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS**

As James sat as his desk going over preliminary reports of the Cylon technology the science teams salvaged from the basestar wreckage, Serina spoke.

"Captain, Admiral Adama is approaching your quarters, and he _doesn't_ appear to be in the best of moods."

"Well, time to face the music. Unlock the door." James ordered as he resumed reading, hoping to finish up the last paragraph before Adama came storming in. And storm he did, not even bother to knock, Adama entered with an aggressive pace. It was easy to tell he was upset by the obvious stiffness of his shoulders and the tenseness upon his wrinkled features.

"Admiral, is something wrong?" James opened as he continued reading.

"You know damn well what is wrong." Adama bit back with clenched teeth. "Ten minutes ago, the Longsword we equipped with FTL drives took off without authorization and with Starbuck aboard. Did you authorize that launch?"

"Last time I checked, this was still my ship, Admiral, and I am beholden to no one, not even you, to justify my actions. That Captain Thrace was aboard was a decision she made on her own."

"Then where the hell is it going?"

Closing the file folder he was reading, James looked up to the Colonial-blue uniformed man standing before his desk. "I sent it on a scouting mission to the Colonies." He admitted.

"What?!" Adama asked sharply and James fixed him with a harsh stare.

"A few days ago, Captain Thrace _informed me_ that there are still survivors in the Colonies, a fact you neglected to apprise me of, Admiral. And that just made me wonder what else, and how many _more_ people might be back there as well." James said with a small bite of indignation in return.

"Trying to retake any the Colonies with only three ships would be suicide." Adama said with no small bit of surprise.

James rose from his desk chair. "I'm not talking about retaking anything, I'm talking about the acquisition of strategic intel and assets and whatever poor souls were left back there. You and I can both see how a wing of FTL-equipped Longswords and Pelicans would be a godsend to us in keeping the Cylons off our backs. Why, we haven't a single means of acquiring intel on enemy fleet movements, and I for one am sick and tired of getting ambushed by basestars and Raiders!"

Adama said nothing as he continued to scowl with a look of grudging agreement in his eyes to that last remark.

"It's a moot point for now, we have no reason to argue until Starbuck and the recon team returns." James said as he walked around his desk.

"Fine, we'll shelve it." A bitter but cooling reply came from the Admiral. "Now what about the half-Cylon child, it's been four days but the President has finally found a suitable foster mother for it, seeing as how you still haven't given me an answer on it staying here."

"Her name is Hera, Admiral, and she _will_ be staying here, along with the mother as well."

Adama's mood abruptly reversed at that sentence and he bore teeth at James as he spoke. "The hell she will." Adama growled in a way that would have likely cowed many other men, but to James who had weathered the barbaric bestial roars of Covenant Elites over COMM channels, he remained unintimidated.

"She applied for asylum, Admiral, and I granted it in exchange for key strategic intel and tactical advisement. That's why I just sent her along on the recon mission to the Colonies. And as for Hera, she was born on a UNSC ship, making her a citizen of Earth and her Colonies, so don't you or President Roslin even think of trying anything."

A step closer brought the Admiral almost face-to-face with James. "I want both of them back aboard my ship the second that plane lands."

"Or what!?" James challenged. "You'll try to start a fight with us, _again_? After I devoted my ship, my crew, and valuable resources to _Galactica_ and this fleet? After I promised to lead your people back to the safety of the UNSC at the possible cost of a war with the Cylons?"

James took a bold half-step closer, putting the two within breathing distance. "You don't think it hasn't crossed my mind to weigh anchor and leave you all behind? It has, but I didn't. I stayed because I didn't want to have the deaths of forty-nine-thousand people on my conscience. I lost my goddamn CAG out there in YOUR operation, so don't you start bellowing at me when you don't get your way!" he growled right back. "Exchange is something you're just going to have to get used to, Admiral." He ended on a tone of finality as he pulled a particular file from his desk and shoved it into the Admiral's chest.

"You want a Cylon prisoner so bad? Take your pick."

Adama took a reluctant backward step, opening the file to see detailed papers on several random seeming civilians in the Fleet, but he stopped when he saw the picture of D'Anna Biers and immediately after that priest he had seen on _Galactica_ trying to board one of Major Heidegger's Pelicans to _Spirit of Fire_.

"Where did you get this information?" The Admiral asked with a slightly more civil tone.

"Your former prisoner." James answered. "Four for two, that's more than an even trade."

With a light flap of the folder, the Admiral shut it and looked back up to James' face. "This isn't over." He promised, not a threat, but not an idle remark either.

"Yes Admiral…" James replied with equal veiled intent. "…it is."

 **MAY 13 2534 / 0849 HOURS**

 **226 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 _ **CLOUD 9**_

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"You sure you're alright to work today Ambassador?" Hudson asked from just behind Ellen as they entered the Quorum building and made for the stairs. "I know after a hard night of drinking like that, I never want to get out of bed."

Frost chuckled. "And I always had to haul your sorry ass out of your bunk before roll call."

Under different circumstances, Ellen might have obliged the men with a chuckle but was slightly preoccupied with the feeling that someone had treated her skull like it was a drum while she'd been sleeping.

"No, there's still plenty of work to do. I have to speak with the Adriatic's Captain and Representative Sanne today about the security measures we're going to have to put into place if they want any fusion reactors aboard that ship." She finished as the came to the door to the Embassy. As Master Sergeant Bishop approached, he halted abruptly and a quizzical look was in his eye.

"Huh, the door isn't locked." He noted.

Shaking her head impatiently, Ellen sidestepped the man. "Tory probably just came in early."

Ellen entered as normal, however, upon doing so she was greeted with the sobering sight of Tory in the hold of another woman as a hostage with a gun pressed to the side of her head. Time froze for her until Bishop and his paratroopers rushed in with their sidearms drawn, and the Master Sergeant pulled Ellen back to shield her.

"Put the gun down now!" he ordered but Ellen doubted the hostage taker would feel very inclined to do so. Tentatively, Ellen peaked around Bishop's shoulder to get a better look at whomever was causing the standoff.

It was a woman, tall, blonde, with her hair tied up in a ponytail with bags under her eyes and a thin layer of sweat covering her face and bear arms coming out of the dirtied white tank top. It looked like she hadn't slept in days. Tory of course looked terrified where she stood in her lavender dress suit with her hands trembling.

"I want a shuttle to the _Spirit of Fire_ right now!" the hostage taker demanded.

"Yeah, not gonna happen lady." Hudson responded as he and Frost slowly spread apart from Bishop to maybe get a better firing line.

With her hangover a memory of the past, Ellen thought quickly and carefully reached into her satchel for her COM pad that she'd had linked in with Cloud 9's communication network.

Keying the device, her office phone rang loudly, startling the already nervous woman, giving Hudson the opening he needed to charge forward. Tory had barely enough time to slip out of the loosened headlock and drop to the floor before Hudson slammed into the other woman, flipping her over the back of the seating area's long couch.

"Hudson!" Frost called out as he advanced quickly.

As he approached the couch, there was no further movement and an accompanying eerie silence. Frost had his jaw clenched, nearly upon it when the woman's arm shot out and wrenched the pistol away. She grabbed him by the throat, hoisting the full-grown man into the air in an impossible feat of strength for a woman of her size. By this time Bishop had bolted in effort to save his men, leaving Ellen alone.

The woman who clearly was not a woman then tossed Corporal Frost back like a ragdoll into Master Sergeant Bishop whom both fell backward into a wooden coffee table and completely destroying it.

Bishop was visibly shaken but managed to get to his knees quickly but unfortunately not before the obvious Cylon was looming over him and was likely going to snap his neck.

Tory, by this time had reached Ellen from her crawl along the floor to her. She grasped at Ellen's sleeve with the terror that was still gripping her and she begged Ellen to run. She wanted to, lord knows every instinct in her head was ordering her to choose flight over fight against a rampant cyborg with superhuman strength. But the memory of that Covenant Elite, the Arbiter, dragging her by the throat with sheer contempt in his eyes into the gravity lift of the alien dropship sparked a fire in her, and the grip of the M6C sidearm she kept hidden in her satchel gave her the courage to dig in her feet.

"Stop! Hands in the air!" she called out as she brought the weapon to bear.

Bishop took advantage of the momentary distraction and elbowed the Cylon in the gut and shot into a tackle that slammed her against the wall with enough force to knock Ellen's framed picture of her science team off the wall and it shattered against the top of a waist-high bookcase.

The Cylon made a grab for a large shard of glass and swung it with the intent of cutting the Master Sergeant's throat out. The sharpened tip came close before Bishop's right hand caught the Cylon's clutched fist and she looked more than a little surprised she was being matched for sheer strength, as was Ellen.

"You're stronger than you look, but you're not the only one who's a little more than meets the eye." Bishop growled as his grip tightened around her fist, forcing the blade of glass to slice into her palm. She screamed and the glass shattered and Bishop drove his forehead into the bridge of the Cylon's nose. He followed it up with a couple heavy right-hooks to the face and a deep gut-punch that sent the Cylon retching over the fist buried in her gut. The finishing blow came when Bishop grabbed her head by the ponytail and brought it down on the top of the adjacent bookshelf, breaking it in the process.

The Cylon tumbled to the floor at the Master Sergeant's feet, unmoving. Ellen kept her pistol trained on it.

"Is it dead?" Tory asked Ellen hesitantly to which Ellen wasn't sure enough to give an answer.

A moaning behind the couch and upon what once had been a coffee table turned both their attentions to the other paratroopers who were rising on unsteady feet.

"Sound off!" Bishop ordered.

Hudson was first as he leaned himself up over the couch's back. "A couple bruised ribs, I think."

"Uhg, just my pride sir." Frost answered.

" _Spirit of Fire_ , this is Bishop," the Master Sergeant radioed in through the transmitter hidden in the collar of his fatigues. "I need a squad here ASAP, the embassy was just attacked by a Cylon infiltrator, no casualties."

At his feet, the Cylon in a twilight state of consciousness, opened its remaining eye that wasn't swelling over and he looked down at it with sheer contempt.

"Spartan-I, bitch." Was the last thing Gina heard before the man's boot sent her into the black of unconsciousness.

 **Author's Note: Well, I hope it was worth the wait. I had a lot of fun with this chapter, despite it taking so long and I hope it tides everyone over for a while because I really am this time going back to Second Chances for a bit before I get back to the next episode. As always, thank you all for your support and positive reviews, please inform me of any grammar/spelling mistakes you come across.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to our favorite crotchety old doctor, Donnelly Rhodes, aka: Doctor Cottle. You always made me smile when you were on screen and left an impression that will never be forgotten by me or anyone who has enjoyed Battlestar Galactica. You will be missed.**

 **To readers; sorry for the long wait and thank you for your patience, it's been a really rough year for me. The reason why this took so long isn't that I was being lazy, but was genuinely occupied with unexpectedly heavy school work and later, being evicted because my landlord decided to be a greedy, heartless pr*ck and sold the house during the most inconvenient time of year. Things are looking better now, but they haven't quite settled yet.**

* * *

 **Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire**

 **Episode 4**

 **Homecoming: Part 1**

 _ **With**_

 _Gideon Emery as Captain James Cutter_

 _Faye Kingslee as Ellen Anders_

 _Courtenay Taylor as Serina_

 _Bruce Willis as Colonel Maxwell Shaw_

 _Joseph Gordon Levitt as Lieutenant Ward 'Warlock' Breckenridge_

 _Aaron Eckhart as Master Sergeant Michael Bishop_

* * *

 **MAY 13 2534 / 0321 HOURS**

 **226 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **HALLWAY H23**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

Using a power drill, Cally unscrewed the four bolts holding the maintenance panel on. It was a small but surprisingly heavy 5x2 metal plate at floor-level with five long rows of ventilation slats that cooled the electronic systems for the hallway's power distribution system to the various subsystems, which had been on the fritz according to Major Valum. Cally laid down on her back with a stubby little flashlight bit between her teeth as she scooted in to see what was the matter. Valum had been giving her little odd jobs like this ever since they'd met. Cally had said as much that she'd rather be up on the hangar decks with Selix and Figursky, but the Major had replied with the fact she didn't give a damn and that Cally would do as she was told or the Colonial deckhand would find herself learning all about the Spirit's sewage processing systems. At least here for now with the security systems disabled, Cally didn't have to worry about the Spirit of Fire's freaky cylon spying on her and she could let go of the paranoia she'd been holding onto ever since Captain Cutter came out about it. But what dismayed Cally most was that the Chief had known about it. Galen Tyrol of all people had known about Spirit of Fire's damn AI and said nothing, not even to her! If it had been Cally, she would have blabbed to the whole Fleet about it, she didn't care about their excuses, having AIs or cylons, or whatever they wanted to call them was a recipe for disaster as far as she was concerned.

Shining the flashlight's beam up, it illuminated an electrical control board and surveyed it for faults or damage. Most of the UNSC's tech was bleeding edge compared to even the computers on _Pegasus_. There were freaking crystals in almost every bit of hardware she'd seen and couldn't for the life of her understand how they exactly worked. Looking over the board, she didn't see anything amiss in the primary system or its three redundants, which mean the power problem was likely deeper. In the maintenance access tunnels…

"Oh, frak me." Cally sighed at the thought of going into those dark, cramped tunnels, but knew she had no other choice. Pulling herself out, Cally then closed up the access panel and placed her tools back in her maintenance vest, then began walking a short distance down the hall to a narrow door just big enough to accommodate a person and nothing else. Without any power, she had to use the hand crank hidden away behind an emergency access panel to laboriously open it up just enough that she could squeeze through, the crank's extremely stiff handle almost made Cally's hand go numb in the process.

Again, she pulled out the small flashlight and shined its beam into the void of the tunnel while a nervous tingle worked up her spine.

Cally forced herself to breathe, trying to push out the anxiety growing within her. "Alright." She said to herself and squeezed through the door.

Cally began walking at a cautious pace, in a tight space like this it was easy to hurt yourself on a low pipe or some random sharp edge jutting out. As she continued down to the T junction, the dim red emergency lights along the walls came to life, dusty red lightbars bathing her orange jumpsuit in a crimson glow and falling dark once more after she had passed. Upon coming to the intersection, Cally shined her light down both passages trepidatiously, expecting some horrible monster-movie alien to be lurking just beyond the reach of her flashlight. She hated the dark, hated the scary movies her dad loved to make her watch when she was a little girl, and she hated being by herself, so this experience was quickly becoming extremely uncomfortable for the young woman. Seeing nothing, she shined the light on a sign on the wall finding it to be written in English. She stepped closer, trying to read the odd characters while within the confines of her mind she kicked herself for not putting greater effort into the English lessons provided aboard the ship. Biting her lip in an anxious expression, Cally decided that the words pointing left said something analogous to 'power distribution control' and began walking in that direction. About ten meters down the tunnel ended with a ladder leading down into an even darker seeming level below and another sign with the same words Cally had read beside an arrow pointing down. As if it couldn't get any worse. Gods, Cally didn't want to get lost down here, she thought as she began descending the ladder. Each step felt like one too far as she continued ever downward, the ladder seeming to go on forever into the very bowels of the old ship, into the dark places no one had visited in decades, until at last, Cally's boots touched upon a solid surface. Turning about, again Cally found herself before another set of signs with three separate paths to follow. She was fairly sure the yellow and blue signs had the word 'power' in the text despite how faded they were. On intuition, she decided to go with the direction the blue sign was pointing, which had absolutely nothing to do with blue being Cally's favorite color, she told herself.

Following the faded and cracking line of paint on the floor panels, Cally walked for what seemed like minutes in the dreary maze-like tunnels, passing several more intersections as she journeyed on alone. The air was so stale down here, the thought drifted through her mind if these maintenance tunnels were even connected with the ventilation systems at all. These colony ships were originally meant to be disposable ferries essentially, so whoever commissioned the vessel might have disregarded that feature as a cost saver that was then overlooked when _Spirit of Fire_ went in for her recommissioning and refit as a support carrier.

The end of the line finally came. Much to her own doubt, she had managed through plain luck to find the main power distribution control box! Now smiling to herself, Cally opened up the large metal box fixed to the wall and pulled out her UNSC-issued handheld maintenance computer and plugged it into the port.

The little device booted up almost immediately, and Cally searched for irregularities as to why H23 wasn't getting any power to it. In response, the screen displayed an image of the conduits overlaid on a map of the maintenance tunnels. On it, flashed the primary conduit to H23 being cut off back from where Cally had come and then down a few other passages, but at least it was on the same level as her. With little else to do than discover the source of the problem and have a crack at fixing it, Cally unplugged the handheld and closed up the control box before setting off.

Moving through the black labyrinth, Cally's eyes darted between the map on her handheld and the path ahead being gradually illuminated by the short reach of her flashlight. Gods, she just wanted to get the frak out of here…

A couple minutes later, she was approaching the cutoff point and shined her flashlight's beam on the conduit running along the floor of the right-side wall, following it along. When she saw the cause for the conduit's failure, Cally wasn't sure she knew what to think. Kneeling down, she inspected it more closely. The piping around the electrical conduit looked like it had been melted by some kind of caustic substance to expose the wire beneath which was completely absent in the gap left behind. She wanted to think that the ship had rats aboard, but rats couldn't do this and Cally dreadfully knew it. Then a reflective glimmer caught her eye and she shined the flashlight down a partly dried puddle of something she found to cover the entire area of the floor around her. Setting her handheld off to the side, Cally touched the thin film with her glove, it was tacky like glue and viscous, almost like the slime slugs secreted.

Then she heard something, it sounded like a voice, and not too far off. Standing back up, Cally followed the sound of the voice, no voices, there were two she could discern. The sounds lead her to a dead-end hallway, and at the end another access door to the tunnels, which Cally was relieved to see, but this one seemed to strangely have its emergency inner bulkheads sealed. Still there was a thin window which Cally had to awkwardly crouch down to look through.

It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the light. The voices rose again helping her to focus on what appeared to be a pair of UNSC marines standing not far from the other side of the door.

"…Serina keep - eye on this thing? - why - hell - we here by ourselves - - duty?" Cally thought she made out.

Thing, what thing?

Then the other replied with what clearly sounded like irritation. "- - is busy keeping those Colonial - - - off. Make sure - - stick - noses where - - belong."

From the bits and pieces of what they said, it was clear they were guarding something Captain Cutter didn't want anyone from the Colonies to see, and that made Cally all the more curious as she peered past the marines. It was apparent she was looking into a very large room, likely another hangar or storage bay of sorts. Around, she saw several strange objects covered in some purple metal, each stood somehow on a single angled stilt. Cally crouched lower to try to get a better look and she suddenly wished she hadn't.

The stilted objects she had been looking at were in fact legs, the four of them leading up to an immense purple crab-like body. From its bizarre petaled head, its body sharply sloped up like a throne where atop it sat a strange vaguely teardrop-shaped object. The carapace that covered the thing had an unearthly design and bore a nature that seemed utterly alien to Cally who hadn't yet realized her hands were trembling. And then without any warning, the head lit up with four large emerald jewels that were piercingly bright. A thunderous bellow echoed inside the chamber, so loud it was that Cally felt the sound reverberate through her own ribcage and she nearly screamed.

"Hey, hey! What - fuck? How - - - thing start up?" The two marines began to quietly panic as the monstrous construct began to move and raise itself. The hull trembled as it, one by one, moved its massive legs, taking a wider defensive posture like an animal would and Cally fell backward from the viewport. She crawled backward as her heart pounded in her chest, never taking eyes off the door until she was back in the intersection. Her first thought was that she needed to tell someone about this, what the Thirteenth Tribe was hiding in their ship, Galen, the Admiral, everyone!

Cally attempted to get to her feet, slowed by her panic-stricken body that fought against her. When she finally got up on unsteady legs a strange chittering noise echoed from up ahead. Her face bearing a fearful grimace, she shined her flashlight out into the darkened tunnel, first to the floor then rising where it fell upon some creature clinging to the wall.

Cally wasn't sure what to think of it a first. It had the appearance of a bloated maggot upon uncountable writhing tendrils. Its sickly pallid and wrinkled skin bore a look of decay and infection that Cally found instinctively repulsive. It had no face or, nor visible mouth but from the thing's front sprouted a set of branch-like segmented limbs ended with red feathery growths that were pointed straight at her.

It twitched unnervingly as it made short stop-and-go advances of mere centimeters but Cally knew when an animal was about to pounce when she saw it. Still, she screamed when she threw herself to the hard metal grating as the creature sailed over her.

With terror and adrenaline running hot through her blood, Cally forced herself quickly to her feet to turn the flashlight back upon the creature to see where it had gone. Cally was now at the start of the corridor she had come down originally and the creature was on the opposite side of the intersecting corridor, already turned about, pointing those horrendous appendages like retched bony fingers reaching out at her. It looked about ready to start a chase just as Cally was preparing to run, though unfortunately, she could not rightly remember the exact route she had come from originally. It was at that moment when she was witness to the grotesque sight of long orange worms bursting up through the floor grating like so much hamburger through a grinder, dozens of slimy fat worms the length of her legs swarming over the creature who struggled to resist the growing mass of orange flesh engulfing it.

Not wanting to test her luck any further and discover what else might be lurking down here, Cally bolted back down the corridor leading to the bay the Marines were guarding. Her hand fumbled for her security badge affixed to her jumpsuit by a spring-loaded spool of wound up elastic string and pressed it to the sensor right of the door.

The sensor flashed a dismaying red, heightening Cally's already high heartrate.

"Come on you piece of crap!" she begged as she tried again to no avail.

With no other option left, Cally pried open the emergency manual override panel and pulled out the hand crank lever once more. She doubted it would open the inner bulkhead, but if those Marines were still out there, they would see the access door being slowly opened. The lever was even stiffer than the one back up in Hallway H23 but Cally threw her entire bodyweight into cranking the door open.

Then suddenly, beautiful bright light began flooding in as the bulkhead unsealed and there were the marines. They were still there! Cally couldn't believe. Both looked as surprised and panicked as she probably did to them. The one with darker skin was reached through the narrow gap and Cally took his arm. He tried to pull her through but her tools and the pockets of her work vest kept getting caught until both men took hold of her and yanked her through, sending all three tumbling to the floor.

Cally's nose smashed against the cold metal, and a dull ache filled it, stealing her breath for but a moment.

Then the floor beneath her hands quaked again and she was reminded of the titan that called this space home or perhaps, its prison. She and the two marines rose, their sight drawn to the colossus as it bent down before them.

Then upon its head, the sharp petals blossomed outward accompanied by metallic _chinks_ and dull thuds and the marines without a word grabbed Cally by her arms and dragged her away as fast as their legs could carry them.

As she was being hauled to the nearest exit, Cally glanced back over her shoulder. The colossal machine's head was still pointed toward the maintenance corridor from which she had come and a shrill whirring filled the air, growing in pitch as a halo of green light shone ever brighter. Then at once, a frothing luminescent jade beam of raw energy was unleashed, melting metal like it were paper mâché. In a short two seconds, it ceased firing and resumed its previous posture. That was the last she saw of it as the bay door shut behind her.

* * *

 **MAY 13 2534 / 0645 HOURS**

 **226 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **LONGSWORD 0798 (CUTTHROAT-07)**

 **CYRANNUS STAR SYSTEM RECON MISSION**

 **HELIOS DELTA SYSTEM**

"Jump eighty complete." Serina spoke to Alice and Sharon in the pilot and copilot's chairs. It wasn't the complete Serina, only a fragment of the larger whole still aboard _Spirit of Fire_ , but even just a small portion of her would be enough to help the recon team with whatever technical assistance they needed. Opposite of Alice, Sharon craned her head back toward the rear of the cabin.

"Hey! Wake up, we're here!"

In short order, Warlock and Starbuck appeared from the corridor leading to the rear of the Longsword where a set of foldout bunks meant for long-duration reconnaissance operations like this were located. Sharon stood herself from the copilot station for Starbuck to take over, knowing well she preferred being in the front seat of an aircraft. As Starbuck took the seat, she popped the vertebrae in her neck with two quick side-to-side jerks before she then tied up her hair into a pony tail.

"Damn bunks, felt like I was sleeping on a gurney." She grumbled as Kara then looked over the navigational readouts. "What the frak… Helios Delta? I thought we were going to check out Helios Alpha first. Caprica is the location of Aether Aerospace's headquarters and Picon has the main factory for Macris-Castellanos. Captain Cutter said he wanted the location FTL drives or the manufacturing data." Kara protested, looking at Sharon for an answer.

"The cylons have a deep-space listening outpost on Aquaria." Sharon answered, if with a bit of a tiredly sardonic tone as she crossed her arms. "The quickest way for us to know what facilities they have and haven't touched is for me to access the cylon data-stream there. Maybe even get some intel on other surviving resistance cells out there in the Colonies.

"What kind of numbers are we talking about?" Kara asked. "Cylons had to have left a garrison there."

There was a slight twitch of doubt in Sharon's eyes. "I can't say for certain, but they can't have more than a few dozen centurions."

"A few dozen?" Kara replied with a mocking, sarcastic scoff.

"It was my idea." Alice interrupted, bringing Starbuck's disbelieving expression upon the Spartan. "We won't get the intel we need by taking photographs from high up in orbit like a bunch of tourists, if she has actionable intel on a lead, then we need to take that risk and get on the ground."

"What about the centurions?" Kara asked, more than a bit off-put and slightly concerned that _she_ wasn't the most gung-ho person for once.

"The captain didn't send me along to watch over you while you take pretty pictures. Spartans don't do tourism, we vacation with extreme prejudice." Alice answered. "Serina, I'll need jump coordinates for Aquaria. We'll do an aerial recon of the outpost first so we can formulate a plan."

"Alright…" Starbuck said mild skepticism but wasn't prepared to argue with a woman who could trash a centurion in hand-to-hand combat.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 **0740 HOURS**

 **LONGSWORD 0798 (CUTTHROAT-07)**

Just shy of an hour later, the group stood huddled over Sharon at the navigation station, looking upon the screen displaying the images of the outpost they had only just taken barely a half hour prior.

The cylon listening outpost was positioned along the rocky coast of a frozen island home to a tall but dormant volcano. The building was at least three stories high, and had a rounded shape like the basestars of the old war, so much that someone could easily be mistake it as one were it not for its much smaller size. Along the craggy shoreline stood three separate landing pads leading to the central structure. Upon the northernmost pad sat a single heavy raider with the still images of centurions offloading supplies from it.

"Alright Sharon, give us the lowdown." Kara asked.

"Okay, the three landing pads here," Sharon pointed to the screen. "These are the only routes in and out of the structure."

Warlock cocked a curious eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"Cylons had no short-term plans for Aquaria, the environment was deemed to hostile for habitation for organic models, even in the established human settlements. They were going to wait out recolonization until they could find a way to further koboliform the planet's atmosphere. This outpost here is more of a token effort to lay claim to all the domains of man."

"Fascinating." Kara responded sarcastically.

"Where is the comms array?" Alice asked.

A few strikes of the keyboard by Sharon brought up an image of a vast complex of large radomes sitting upon a narrow rocky plain close to the volcano's caldera.

"Located near the summit, the outpost is linked to the array via a pipeline of ground cables that's buried underneath all the snow." Sharon noted.

"Is there any way to get in on the outpost's landward side, a wall thin enough for a breaching charge or a cutter to get through?" Kara asked to which Sharon shook her head.

"I can't tell from these pictures, and even if I could, the cylons would still raise the alarm to the rest of the occupation fleet, and then we can say goodbye to any hope of launching a rescue op after that.

Starbuck crossed her arms. "Well we're going to need some way of getting in." she frustratingly said.

"What about the water?" Alice then spoke up. "Would they be monitoring activity under the surface?"

Sharon looked back over her shoulder at the armored form of the Spartan. "No… why?"

* * *

 **MAY 13 2534 / 0516 HOURS**

 **226 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **INTERROGATION**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

 _"Well, can't you tell me why you suddenly got called back to Spirit of Fire?"_ Tory asked over the communications channel. _"I only just got to the embassy when Hudson told me about it, you didn't think of calling me sooner?"_

"Yes, I know Tory and I'm sorry." Ellen apologized. "But the Captain said it was an urgent situation. I would have called you at your apartment but a secure transmission couldn't be guaranteed."

 _"What kind of urgent situation? Does it have to do with the cylon that attacked the embassy?"_

Ellen shook her head, in spite that Tory wouldn't see it and it pained Ellen that she couldn't explain to her what exactly was going on. "I'm sorry, it's… classified. This is ONI stuff that has to do with my other job on the Spirit, I can't talk about any of it."

A sigh from Tory could be heard over the line. _"Well, what do you want me to tell President Roslin, you were supposed to meet with her today on Colonial One about security measures regarding the micro-fusion reactors for the Fleet?"_

"Just that I was called away to _Spirit of Fire_ to deal with a very important matter. That'll have to do."

"Anders," Cutter said from the other side of the room.

"I'm sorry Tory, I have to go." She said and ended the call.

Approaching Captain Cutter who stood with crossed arms before the one-way pane of glass, Anders observed the conversation happening inside the interrogation room between Master Sergeant Bishop and the young Colonial woman who'd inadvertently stumbled upon the storage bay where the Captain had been hiding the Covenant Scarab Red Team had captured in the battle for the artificial planet. But it seemed that was the least of their concerns.

"The creature you saw down in the maintenance hallways," Bishop said. "Did it look like this?" he asked, holding up a computer tablet with the image of one of the parasites encountered both on and inside the planet's surface.

Specialist Henderson nodded. "Yeah," she answered uneasily. "That's the thing that attacked me."

"And you said another creature attacked it?"

"No… a swarm. These giant worms came up from beneath the floor and smothered it. While they were fighting, I ran for the fastest way out and then I ran into that THING you're hiding down in that bay." She then changed to a more accusatory tone. "And don't you think that I won't tell everyone about it! The entire Fleet is going to hear about this!"

Bishop glared right back in a manner that would make the most fiery tempered person's blood run cold as only a seasoned veteran could, silencing the deckhand into a muted silence.

"What you saw down there was an experimental and HIGHLY CLASSIFIED weapons platform." Bishop lied. "And I can tell you from personal experience that the Office of Naval Intelligence very much does not like it when someone goes and blabs state secrets to the public."

Anders saw Specialist Henderson's eyes widen as she swallowed a nervous lump in her throat.

Sitting back, Bishop's eyes softened. "I'm not threatening you, miss. We're not going to throw you out the airlock for seeing what you did, but I am warning you that if one word about that machine gets out to the Fleet, there will be consequences for all the civilians out there. ONI _will_ put every last man, woman and child on the driest most remote dirtball they can find. And let me tell you, they've done a lot worse in the past to protect their secrets."

Anders turned to the Captain. "So our little secret isn't so secret any more, and worse, the parasite we encountered is aboard the ship as well as an infestation of Hunter eels it seems. I'm guessing those came from the Scarab somehow. Captain, how are we going to explain any of this to the Colonials if anyone finds out the truth behind any of this?"

"We can explain the parasite and eels as stowaway animals that managed to get aboard and Bishop has given us cover for the Scarab by claiming it's a classified weapons project."

A tense look remained on Anders' face. "That's not going to hold up if anyone gets a picture of that thing out. Frankly, I'm amazed no one aboard has leaked any combat footage from our previous engagements."

"We have Serina and Colonel Shaw to thank for that mostly. But don't worry about any of that right now Anders, I need you to get down to the storage bay and find out what's going on with our Scarab and determine how it turned itself back on and do that before it becomes a threat to the ship. Take Bishop with you." A tense looking Captain Cutter asked of her.

"What about other parasites we may have aboard?"

"You let me handle that." The Captain answered but one more question lingered in Ellen's mind.

"And what about Admiral Adama?"

"Right now, he's probably occupied with another matter."

* * *

 **MAY 13 2534 / 0600 HOURS**

 **226 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **COLONIAL FREIGHTER:** _ **GIDEON**_

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

Aaryn Tosh approached the rear of the Pelican as its engines powered down. Working as the deck officer he'd lost the novelty of having the dropships of the Thirteenth Tribe aboard. At this point, it seemed that regular cargo shipments would now be handled by _Spirit of Fire_ , which was a great relief to the entire Fleet as the ships no longer needed to compete with each other over the limited number of the military's Raptors thanks to the Spirit's ubiquitous dropships. And as someone who'd had a front row seat to the massacre that happened in this very dock under Colonel Tigh's reign of terror, that was very much welcome.

The UNSC marines were also a good deal friendlier, even if their Caprican tended to be godawful, but at least they actively participated in the offloading process rather than stand off to the side like prison guards on a work detail.

Aaryn held a pleasant smile to greet the marines as the rear hatch pressurized, however, when the troop bay door parted open, it did not contain the cargo listed on the manifest in Aaryn's hand, rather it contained a squad of armed men he recognized from the news as the UNSC's black-armored ODSTs accompanied by an equal number of other marines. Though Aaryn wouldn't recognize it, they were clothed in a drab black and grey variant of UNSC Army uniform with the Colonial Seal emblazoned upon their chest plates and pauldrons. They belonged to those marines stationed aboard _Pegasus_ which Kinsano had been retraining for the past month, this joint operation being their first test of their newly acquired skills.

"Move! Move!" one of them barked and the marines and shock troopers flooded out with their weapons raised. "Stay where you are, this is a military operation!" the same voice shouted.

Aaryn didn't move an inch, frozen by the memory of the massacre as the ODSTs and Colonial Marines rushed past him. A few minutes later, they returned, forcefully pushing a man in handcuffs toward the Pelican.

"What's going on?" Aaryn asked, more than a little bit agitated now that the initial shock had worn off.

One of the ODSTs tuned as the others put the prisoner aboard. "He's a cylon."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

Throughout the Fleet, similar events were happening concurrently. Aboard _Cloud 9_ , the Colonial News Network headquarters was raided by a whole platoon of Colonial Marines from _Pegasus_ , dragging out D'Anna Biers by her arms while she decried of her unfair treatment by so-called 'dogs of the military.' And aboard the cargo transport, _Cybele_ , a two fireteams captured the Simon who had been posing as a husband to a deckhand on _Galactica_ and stepfather to the woman's daughter.

All were brought aboard the _Pegasus_ and sent to the brig along with the cylon who had taken the name of John Cavil aboard _Galactica_. Until that moment when the other three were hauled in together, he had been adamantly protesting his treatment, but now it seemed clear to him the jig was up and he drew silent as Admiral Adama and Colonel Shaw entered the brig.

"I demand to be let go, this is in complete violation of my rights as a Colonial citizen!" D'Anna Biers shouted through the bars of her cell.

Cavil rolled his eyes. "Give it up, will you? It should be pretty clear by now they know what we are." As he finished, Cavil shot a dirty look down toward the Simon's cell who in return cast a defiant stare of his own.

"He's right." Said the Doral taken from the _Gideon_ who had attempted to avoid being caught by growing a beard and his hair out.

"How'd they find out?" D'Anna asked.

Cavil scoffed. "I can't believe I have to explain it. Our little errant Eight sold us out, isn't that right Admiral?" Cavil asked, upturning his chin as he looked to the Admiral standing by the door with Shaw. "Seeing as she never gave us up until she stepped aboard _Spirit of Fire_ , I'm guessing she cut a deal with Captain Cutter, her freedom and her child in exchange for our heads."

Bill only continued to scowl back at Cavil wordlessly. "Tell me, does it hurt, Admiral?" Cavil mocked. "Knowing how little she trusted you?"

Containing his emotions and brushing off the cylon's attempt at psychological manipulation, Bill slowly stepped forward at a deliberate pace. "I would be very careful with my words if I were you." he spoke calmly. "There's no resurrection ship out there to catch you if you fall, and no basestars to come and rescue you. So get comfortable." He bit with the slightest feeling of satisfaction that as-of-now, the Fleet was now completely cylon-free.

"Please!" the Simon in the cell at the end of the brig called out. "I'm not with them! He told me to blow up the _Cybele_ , but I refused." The Simon said, pointing to Cavil.

"Be quiet you coward." The Doral demanded coldly while Biers held a sour look.

"I have a family aboard that ship, a wife, a daughter. I have nothing to do with their schemes anymore!"

"We'll deal with all you all in due time." Colonel Shaw spoke for the first time as he began pacing down the line of cells. "And if anyone gets the bright idea of staging an escape, I've stationed a marine with a flamethrower right outside." Shaw stopped and looked at Biers. "No bullets, no quick way out. They'll just cook you up like a pig on a spit roast, toaster-girl." Shaw said and there was a glimmer of fear in the Three's eyes.

Colonel Shaw smiled. "Enjoy your stay on _Pegasus_."

Admiral Adama and Colonel Shaw then departed the brig for the CIC where Lee would be appraised of the situation. As they walked, Shaw turned his head to Adama. "I'll have my report on the operation as well as the reports of the boarding teams to you by thirteen-hundred hours but I can tell you it all went like clockwork except for Biers' little incident at the Colonial News headquarters."

Adama glanced at a pair of Colonial Marines in the reissued UNSC BDUs and holding UNSC weapons minted from Spirit of Fire's manufacturing deck. Colonel Shaw had asked for Bill's approval before enacting the changes, which Bill was surprised at but thankful for. But still, it was off-putting to witness the changes happening in front of him. The sad contemplation at the thought of how many of these men and women would eventually become UNSC service members sparked a deep sense of nostalgia in knowing that one day, there would no longer be a Colonial Fleet or Marine Corps. They would all be under the banner of Earth and the UNSC. No more battlestars, Vipers, or Raptors cruising the stars.

"Thank you, Colonel." Bill replied, as he held in those thoughts.

"Your marines have shown great improvement in the past weeks, some of them could even pass for ODSTs given some more time. Maybe some of them will when we get to where we're going." Shaw said, perhaps picking up on the subject preoccupying Bill's mind, he certainly seemed like a smart man for a jarhead.

"Maybe…"

"You know, Navy wouldn't turn you down if you joined up and applied for a command. Probably wouldn't get any of the new Marathon-class heavy cruisers they're churning out back on Mars, but over on Reach, there's a big drive to refit and refurbish a lot of the old Halcyon-class light cruisers, and they'll need some good Captains for those."

"I'll take that into consideration, Colonel." Bill answered, but in his heart, he despaired at the thought of losing _Galactica_. He wasn't sure if he could ever come to terms with that in this strange future for the people of the Twelve Colonies. And the thought of not just losing _Galactica_ , but all the people under his command he'd grown close to. Would he lose Gaeta, Dualla, and Tyrol? What about Starbuck? Running off half-cocked on some crazy mission of Cutter's. Bill was most worried about losing her, the young woman that had become like a daughter to him. Gods he hoped she was okay right now.

* * *

 **MAY 13 2534 / 0836 HOURS**

 **AQUARIA**

 **HELIOS DELTA SYSTEM**

"This is fraking crazy, even for me." Kara said as her boot kicked up another cloud of silt from the ocean floor as she walked with Alice and Sharon far below the partly frozen waves above. "Do you have any idea the kinds of things that are down here?" she asked as her eyes scanned the dark azure gloom around, looking for any ominous dark predatory forms lurking beyond the range of her headlamp.

Sharon laughed openly over the wireless channel. "You've flown more combat sorties than _anyone_ else in the Fleet, faced _hundreds_ of cylon Raiders, and you're worried about a few fish?"

"Hey, I'm in a Viper when I go out there, not twenty meters underwater I can barely see in."

"It's fine," Alice spoke up, the green giant practically sauntering across the ocean floor barely hindered. "My motion tracker doesn't show anything remotely near us. Come on, we're almost to the outpost and that last heavy raider is going to show up soon."

According to Sharon, it was standard cylon practice to stagger resupply missions to limit possible ambushes on the convoys, in this case it was one heavy raider every hour.

"I can't emphasize how lucky we were," Sharon said at the pillars holding up the landing pads began to appear out of the blue twilight. "A base like this gets resupplied maybe every two to three months."

"Yeah, well, I'll feel lucky once we're back on the Longsword." Kara said.

Alice came to a halt beneath the middle of the landing pad. A crimson-carapaced sea centipede the length of Kara's leg lunged at the Spartan's shin in a territorial attack, proving fruitless when its jaws met with her titanium grieve. Alice then gave it a retaliatory stomp that obliterated several of its front legs, forcing it to flee in terror into the darkness. "Alright, Valerii prepare to get topside. Starbuck, set the det-charges on the second landing pad, I'll handle the third. RV back here once the charges are set."

"Right," Sharon responded as she then pulled the string hidden under her flight suit's chest-plate to inflate the emergency life preserver to ascend to the surface.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

Sharon, breached the surface of rocking waves and crashing hunks of ice near the base of one of the landing pad's support pillars. Ignoring the chunks of ice beating into her back and shoulders, Sharon pulled the grapple gun from her hip and fired the electromagnetic stud up into the bottom of the landing pad. Once the gun had been latched to her suit, she triggered the motor to haul her up, already hearing the heavy metallic footsteps of centurions over the tumult of the ocean. Several minutes passed as Sharon hung awkwardly until the telltale whine of a heavy raider's landing thrusters howled in the distance, growing ever louder until it washed everything else out. Sharon waited for the engines to cut out as she began swinging back and forth, kicking off the supporting pillar until she grabbed could grab hold of the ledge with her left hand.

When the sound finally died out, her free hand pulled off the flight helmet and latched it to her belt. As long as the centurions saw her face, they would think she was just another Eight, regardless of the uniform she was wearing. The hard part came when Sharon disconnected the grapple line and she was hanging only by the strength of her own hands, the sudden jerk straining the muscles in her arms, but still she pulled herself up on to the pad directly right of the heavy raider. Cautiously, she moved, scanning for any humanoid models who could single her out as an intruder, but found none around, only a lance of centurions now approaching the raider to offload the supplies. Looking to the other two landing pads, the heavy raiders were still there, along with at least a couple dozen centurions divided between the two of them.

Sharon entered the troop bay, moving through the tight gap between the two stacks of cargo crates that stretched back to the rear of the compartment. Approaching the cockpit with careful steps, Sharon pulled the silenced UNSC pistol she had in an under-arm holster and chambered a round as silently as she could.

Coming to the cockpit door on the right side of the bay, Sharon knocked three times, then checked around a crate to see if any of the centurions were near enough to detect anything, which she judged they weren't.

The door slid open, revealing another Eight who looked almost exactly like her. At first the Eight wore a look of boredom which abruptly changed when she saw the uniform Sharon was wearing.

"You!" was all she said before Sharon shot her in the head with a TTR paint round and the Eight tumbled back into the cockpit, unconscious. Sharon checked again if any of the centurions were reacting, but it appeared the silencer did its job.

With her entry now secured, Sharon entered the cockpit and shut the door. In a few minutes, she had stripped the Eight of her flight suit and dressed herself in it, now not even the other humanoid models would be able to distinguish her if they saw Sharon walking around.

With one thing left to do, Sharon slipped a low-profile mic over her right ear and clicked the channel open and closed twice to signal the others she was going into the outpost. The channel clicked once, confirming her signal. Taking one last clear breath, she tucked the pistol into the flight suit and set off.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

Back beneath the frigid ocean, Starbuck finished setting a detonation charge on the second of the landing platform's six support pillars. She now began walking to the third pillar, coming close to the sea centipede, but it seemed the crustacean's encounter with Alice's boot was still fresh in its mind and beat a hasty retreat into darker waters when Starbuck got close enough, which was fine with her.

A shiver ran through her shoulders and down her arms, even through the suit, Kara was still freezing, and not helping her nerves in the least.

Coming to the base of the pillar, it had already accumulated a considerable number of barnacles and accompanying algae growth despite being here for less than a year.

Again, Starbuck removed the backpack and set it on the fine brown sand of the ocean floor, retrieving the third of her four charges. Removing the plastic cover on the back, she then firmly pressed it to the concrete of the pillar where the barnacles were thinnest and the adhesive would hold. When it stayed put, Kara flipped up the display in the top-right corner of the square-shaped charge and pressed the red key on the number pad directly under the simple display. The screen came alive, displaying a blue background emblazoned with the UNSC logo with the reassuring words UNARMED and ENTER CODE displayed in bold, green English letters.

"Okay," Kara said to herself as she punched in the activation code Alice gave her. 0-7-1-1, followed by pressing the red key again and switching the priming handle back into the horizontal position and the display flashed red with the word ARMED.

"Alice, I've got one left to go."

" _Me too, let's make it quick and get into position for when we get the signal."_ The Spartan replied over the wireless.

As Starbuck put the backpack on, something moved in the corner of her eye, and her head maneuvered right to where the floor sloped down into the deeper waters. In the gloom, a shadow moved, gliding slickly through the water, weaving back and forth on long arcs so as the creature could get an idea of what it was stalking.

Kara froze, whatever it was, it had to be at least four or five meters long, likely one of Aquaria's many terrifying species of sharks. Then, curiously, little speckles of light began to appear upon the shadow, joined evermore by others until it became a dazzling aurora of shimmering white and blue light, and Kara knew with a harrowing dread what was coming for her.

Finally, all of it came into view, less than twenty meters away was a Whaler Shark, it's body matte-black like some kind of living shadow out of the depths, only its broad, triangular teeth, and the light-producing luciferase around its mouth betrayed its true form. The creature had no eyes, it instead relied on an electroreceptive pores covering its body to perceive its aquatic world during the long, dark winters Aquaria suffered through.

It was a mystery how a shark with no eyes developed bioluminescence, but regardless of that, it used this odd trait to confuse and lure other smaller fish near its maw by mimicking the flashes of a cloud of firefly krill, only for the fish to be skewered by a harpoon of hardened bone lying in the back of the Whaler Shark's mouth, thought to have evolved from a pharyngeal jaw. Once the Whaler Shark had harpooned their prey, it then retracted its meal into its jaws where the shark then mauled it into submission before swallowing the shredded remains.

Described as Aquaria's deadliest hunter, the thing gave Kara nightmares for weeks when she watched a documentary about Aquaria's wildlife as a kid. Her right hand reached up to the MA5B slung across her chest despite knowing that bullets were all but useless underwater. Why the hell was this thing coming after her? These sharks only went after fish and squid that weren't nearly as big as she was. Could it be the metal in the suit? Kara remembered that metal screwed with their electroception.

"Alice, I got a problem here." She said with a growing urgency.

" _What is it?"_

Starbuck tried taking a few steps back, but that seemed to intrigue the creature further. It opened its mouth, the unseen tip of the harpoon ready to spear her. "Frak!" Without thinking, Kara struck first, her thumb pressing the release for the rifle's spring-loaded bayonet set in a socket under the barrel. The shark was impaled under its nose and the harpoon launched a full meter out of its jaws, barely missing Kara's shoulder. Her finger squeezed down on the trigger as fast as she could pull it. At point-blank range, the water's mass did little to slow the bullets' speed, piercing the predator's lithe body of cartilage and muscle. Several shredded the creature's brain, causing the creature to spasm uncontrollably and Kara to fall backward as she then panting with the rush of adrenaline, watched it go through its death throes in a murky cloud of brown silt.

"Frak you!"

" _Starbuck, say status!"_ Alice called.

"It's okay," Kara responded, her panting beginning to slow. "I'm good." She said and closed the channel.

She sat there on the ocean floor until she was sure the monstrous shark had stopped moving. "Samuel T. Anders, you gods-damned sonofabitch, I swear on the Lords of Kobol, I'm never gonna let you forget about what I did to bring back your sorry ass." She said bitterly.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

Much to Sharon's relief, the outpost was designed similarly to other cylon facilities, giving her little trouble moving toward the control room at the heart of the structure. So far centurion presence had been light, having only encountered three regular patrols since leaving the landing pad, though still, she hadn't seen any humanoid models. It was highly likely there was at least one in the control room, maybe even monitoring her progress on the security feed, but that was fine, better to have their eyes on her than elsewhere so that Starbuck and the Spartan, which Sharon still didn't know what to make of, could work beneath the waves.

Walking as she normally would, Sharon entered the control room, modeled similarly to the bridge of a basestar. There, a Four greeted her in a grey sweater vest and a blue tie over a plain white shirt. Next to him at the forefront was a Six in a navy-blue spaghetti-string tank top and white jeans, with a Two on her left dressed in a dark, cold weather coat and thermal pants for whatever reason, and standing far off to Sharon's left near the wall was a Five in similar cold weather clothing. All stood between Sharon and the data stream interface stations arranged in a Y shape at the center of the room.

"What's going on? The resupply is almost finished, what are you doing out of your raider?" the Five asked, ever the cold skeptic, but the Six then addressed her with a more nuanced approach.

"Is there something wrong, Eight?"

Thinking on her feet, it was obvious she couldn't take them all out before an alarm was raised, and so chose a different route.

"I'm here on a matter that concerns the ship of the Thirteenth Tribe."

The Five crossed his arms as the Simon then spoke. "You know the Ones don't like it when we call them that."

"Well, they're human, and are from Earth, right?" Sharon replied. "I don't know how much more proof the Ones can need. But that doesn't matter at the moment, what does is with seven basestars now lost to that ship and _Galactica_ , concerns have risen about them potentially striking the Colonies."

"Seven?" The Leoben asked, surprising Sharon that he, nor none of the others seemed to know about their recent losses. Sharon found that very unusual… and disturbing. Still, she managed to hide her surprise and keep a straight face in front of the other cylons.

"When did we lose another two?" the Six followed up, showing great concern.

"Was there a resurrection ship in range?" the Simon added.

"Three days ago, and yes, but they're still backed up with downloads." Sharon answered falsely. "The information wasn't on the network because of the threat posed by their AI, the Threes and Ones are worried that it could decode our transmissions and potentially hack into our systems entirely, so I'm here as a courier. While we did lose the basestars, we managed to uncover a way to track the signatures of their fusion drives and we can't let the humans know that." Sharon said, perhaps even slightly proud of the convincing lie she'd made up that seemed to have the four cylons in the room convinced.

"We should update our computers immediately and begin scanning the system." The Doral advised adamantly.

"Agreed." Echoed the Six and made a gap for Sharon to approach the data stream.

Walking over, Sharon carefully removed her glove, being careful to keep her palm facing up as to not disturb the trojan horse she was carrying. Now standing before the interface, she pulled the glove off completely while turning her hand over, like a card trick, Sharon's hand fell just an inch behind the crystal data chip containing Serina's fragment.

Her hand submerged in the liquid, Sharon could feel Serina spread through the outpost's systems like a hurricane. The power even this small fragment of her had was… unbelievable. Carving through anti-intrusion software and semi-sentient defense programs, disassembling them with frightening ease until Serina had complete control of the entire facility and any others directly linked to it and removing any possibility of an alarm being raised.

 _[Alright, my job's done. Initiating blackout, you'll have five seconds.]_ Serina spoke to Sharon through the data stream.

Sharon withdrew her hand from the liquid medium as the entire room fell into complete blackness.

"What's going on?" asked the Simon.

"This is a system reboot, it'll update your security subsystems and wipe any vulnerable old data." Sharon said as she pulled down the zipper of her flight suit to retrieve the M6S. When light returned the sweeping red data displays along the walls now glowed a cold blue and the digital code upon it scrolled downward in a far more organized fashion. This change went unnoticed by the Six whom upon the restoration of the room's lighting was immediately faced with Sharon pointing the pistol at her chest. She didn't get to wear the surprised look on her face for long until she was struck square in the chest with a stun round, the paralyzing paint on the cylon's bare skin providing immediate assurance that the Six would be down for a good long time. With a stony face devoid of conflictions, Sharon brought the pistol around and in quick succession, took out the Simon and Leoben with six rounds divided between the both of them.

The Doral, however, had the time to react. From behind his back the Five pulled out a pistol, and Sharon in reaction rolled back over the data stream interface, taking cover behind it just as the Doral's pistol began barking its sharp reports in reply to her treachery.

Sharon's hand shot up to her ear, opening the channel. "This is Sharon; objective accomplished, but I need backup now!"

" _Standby, we're on our way."_ Alice replied.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

Outside, Kara hung by a wire under the landing pad where Sharon had been with Alice hanging next to her. Starbuck was frankly amazed that the grapple wire could hold the Spartan's immense weight as well as the light anti-aircraft gun that Alice favored as her weapon of choice.

 _"This is Sharon; objective accomplished, but I need backup now!"_ Kara heard over her helmet's speakers.

"Standby, we're on our way." Alice quickly replied before turning back to Kara. "Go loud."

Starbuck pulled the detonator from a pouch on her chest and mashed down hard on the trigger. Then like drumbeats, the explosives triggered beneath the waters. It took a moment, but soon the supports began to complain with the sounds of warping metal and then all at once, the landing pads tipped over to one side and collapsed into the ocean, taking the raiders and dozens of centurions with them. Alice then chucked her machinegun over the ledge and the two climbed up, coming up directly in front of the last heavy raider. The two looked to each other and nodded to signal they were ready.

Alice emerged from behind the raider first, immediately unleashing a stream of orange tracers at the crowd of centurions a dozen meters down the causeway as she quickly advanced. Starbuck followed after five seconds, letting Alice take the point and the bulk of the cylons' aggression as they finally began firing back. Starbuck raised her rifle, placing the digital reticle on her HUD over a centurion on the right and fired a short burst into its chest. The cylon tumbled back from the damage the UNSC armor piercing rounds had dealt before a second burst put it down permanently. Ahead, Alice surged on nearer to the entrance to the facility, stepping over the destroyed form of the centurions she had cut down. Her shields were flaring strongly and on the verge of failure by the time she and Starbuck took out the last three between them and the door.

A brief respite of momentary silence fell as the Spartan and the Viper pilot formed up in breaching position next to the closed doorway large enough for a whole squad of centurions to pass through.

"Serina, get open the door. Captain Thrace, prep a frag."

" _You two should be advised that there are a lot of centurions waiting to greet you."_ Serina said with a cautious tone. _"I can slow them down by locking the doors in their paths, but you're going to have to deal with them eventually."_

"Looking forward to it, now let's crack this can." Alice answered with an eagerness that Starbuck couldn't help but feel electrified by. Even against a hundred centurions, she felt that with Alice, there was no way they were going to lose.

The door into the outpost slid open and Kara readily tossed the grenade in, followed by a thundercrack that shook her feet.

"Give'em another." Alice said, and Starbuck threw another grenade down the blind corridor.

Following the next detonation, Alice moved around Starbuck into the outpost, and on instincts instilled in her by her training, she followed as if on auto-pilot.

The corridor was a mess of smoke and shredded centurions. Alice was on point, already firing through the haze. The tracers from her machinegun briefly illuminated the surviving cylons momentarily before the heavy rounds tore into them. Kara added her own fire into the haze as well, pulling the trigger upon seeing her reticle turn red and only stopping when it became white once more.

The centurions pushed back, by the dozens they came like a tide of chrome and hatred from an intersection of three adjoining hallways ten meters ahead. One came at the Spartan with its fingers extended into razor-sharp talons, and Alice offered the barrel of her gun to its face in return, swinging it like a battering ram. Another came before she could finish the first off. It latched onto the Spartan's weapon, trying to pry it out of her grasp or expose her for long enough for its cohorts to take advantage of. Kara couldn't quite believe what she was seeing when Alice slugged the cylon in the face, knowing that punching a centurion might as well be no different than punching a car door, but not in Alice's case. The Centurion was knocked back, its face became a crumpled mess and its eye shattered from the force of Alice's punch. As it staggered, Alice kicked it across the corridor in time to duck under the swipe of another's talons. More and more the centurions came in such density, all focused on the Spartan.

The machinegun dropped to the floor and the Centurion that had just attempted to take Alice's head off was thrown back into the growing crowd, knocking a good number over like so many dominoes. And then just as quickly, Alice drew and fired her pistol at a group of three who still stood with their weapons primed.

Headshot.

Headshot.

Headshot.

She followed by pulling a combat knife while Kara cut down the group of floor-bound centurions. Kara was so enthralled at the sight of one woman, one _human_ taking on so many feared centurions on equal ground, that Kara didn't notice her ammo counter fall to zero until bullets ceased coming out of her rifle. She cursed at herself for not keeping her mind focused as she reloaded, leaving Alice alone in facing the hoard. Starbuck witnessed the Spartan's 'can-opener' in action as Alice's knife speared through the left side of a Centurion's head while three more gunshots sang out. One Centurion ahead opened fire with a spray of bullets. With her knife still buried in the cylon's metal skull, she pulled it in front of her to act as a shield and charged forward.

"I'll knock them down, you take them out!" Alice yelled as she and her improvised ram collided with more centurions. Alice threw it aside, attacking the soulless machines with nothing more than her knife and gauntleted fist. One she grabbed and slammed against the ceiling before letting it fall behind her as she pressed on, leaving it to Starbuck to finish off with a subsequent burst from her assault rifle.

Like some juggernaut of legend, the Spartan fought through the cylons, her strength and speed unmatchable by the machines, a clear rebuttal of all the cylons' self-perceived superiority. One by one, Alice tore a swath through them, leaving a trail of battered metal bodies for Starbuck to finish off.

One by one, they came, and one by one they fell.

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

"Traitor!" the Doral shouted from the other side of the room where he took cover. "Do you have any idea what they'll do to you after you're captured? Do you have any idea how stupid it was attacking this outpost? There are layers of security, the entire occupation fleet probably knows you're here right now."

"Maybe, but I doubt it." Sharon responded with a measure of self-assurance.

"Yeah, and why is that?"

"Probably because I just took over all systems inside this outpost, including the communications array." Serina answered with a much more obvious aura of self-assurance. "Hello there little cylon, I'm the Spirit of Fire's AI, and now thanks to you letting us waltz on in through the front door, I now have complete and total access to your entire data network in the Colonies. And as for your little skin-job friends lying about; stun rounds. Can't have any of you reincarnating and mucking up our plan now, can we?"

Sharon had to admit as a smirk crossed her lips that she would have seen the look on the Doral's face.

"Well we still have a hundred centurions that will be swarming this room any second now!"

To the Doral's right, the adjacent door slid open and what brief relief he felt quickly soured as he witnessed the disheartening sight of a battered Centurion clattering to the floor, missing an arm with narrow wisps of acrid smoke trailing into the air.

"And that would be why we brought her along." Serina answered as Alice stepped into the room.

In response, the Five model stumbled to his feet and fired a shot at Alice's head, only for it to bounce off the golden barrier of her armor's shields. He fired again and then again as he back-peddled, both shots mirroring the same result.

"Go on, keep shooting, it just pisses me off more." Alice responded as she slowly stepped forward. Two more gunshots rang from the Two's pistol, not even slowing the Spartan down.

"You might as well give up." Serina said with a certain smugness. "I guarantee you won't be putting her down, and you certainly won't be sending any distress signals to the rest of your occupation fleet with me here."

The Doral wore an anxious look on his face while in his eyes he held a pensiveness. "Then I'll tell them myself." He said, beginning to move the gun under his chin in attempt to download out of his situation.

"Hey!" Sharon shouted from across the room where she stood now, drawing the Doral's attention long enough to land a stun round to his face. "Alright, clear!" Sharon said with an exasperated breath.

A moment later, Starbuck appeared, backing in through the doorway with her rifle raised. "Are we clear?" she asked over her shoulder.

"All hostiles have been neutralized, Captain." Serina answered, allowing Starbuck to relax.

"Let's get these assholes tied up." Alice spoke up. "Then me and Valerii can go out to the heavy raider to collect our last prisoner and move the bird so Warlock can land. We can figure out what to do with it and them later."

* * *

 **MAY 13 2534 / 0700 HOURS**

 **226 DAYS AFTER CYLON ATTACK**

 **COLONIAL FLEET**

 **UNSC** _ **SPIRIT OF FIRE**_ **CFV-88**

 **STORAGE BAY G-16**

 **UNKNOWN SYSTEM**

"Serina, what's the status of the Scarab?" Professor Anders asked as she and Bishop stood outside the door to the bay.

"Dormant at the moment." Serina answered over the intercom. "Given the likelihood that it was the alien parasite that triggered its activation, I've locked down the maintenance accessways to the general area for your convenience."

"Thoughtful." Ellen answered with mock sincerity.

Beside her, Bishop loaded a shotgun cradled in his left arm. "And what are we doing about the little bugs?"

"The Captain has dispatched Spartans Jerome and Douglas to determine what the scale of the infestation is, and Lieutenant Colonel Kinsano is being temporarily recalled from her duties aboard _Pegasus_ to lead the cleanup operation with the hellbringers. So you worry about your own problems at the moment. The UNSC would very much not like to lose the most significant item of Covenant technology we've been able to recover thus far in the war."

"Noted." Ellen answered as she checked her tablet computer to doublecheck her translation algorithms were up to date with the computers in her lab. "I'm ready to head in now."

"Best of luck, I'll be standing by if you need me."

"Open the door." Bishop ordered to the marines standing guard.

The bulkhead unsealed, allowing the two entry into the eerily quiet bay. Ahead, the Scarab sat crouched and immobile before the melted tunnel it had blasted in order to kill the single parasite. Ellen tried not to think about how little time she would have to run for her life if it reactivated then and there, but the Scarab just continued to sit unmoving the entire walk all the way up to it.

Ellen and Bishop walked under the arch of the rear leg to get to the crew bay. Bishop hauled himself up the five-foot gap between the lip of the bay and the floor below before then helping Ellen aboard.

"Time to get to work, the control console should be just ahead." Ellen said, then taking the lead.

Moving around a partitioning wall, she found it at the front of the compartment, a bending holographic screen covered with a swath of alien glyphs that were a varied rainbow of colors.

"Never thought I'd actually be onboard one of these things." Bishop spoke out while Ellen brought up her tablet's camera to analyze it.

"So, are you going to explain the whole Spartan-I thing, or is that a topic we're going to leave on an awkward silence?" she asked while working.

"Afraid a lot of that is classified stuff ONI would rather not like me talking about, ma'am."

Ellen smirked. "More classified than artificial planets and an entirely unknown human civilization thousands of lightyears from Earth?"

Bishop chuckled. "Well, when you put it that way it does seem like small potatoes. The short of it, is that ONI wanted a to whip up batch of super soldiers to fight the Insurrection, and called it Project Orion. I was a part of one of the last groups they made. Army, Marines, special forces from all branches were brought in and given a cocktail of serums to boost our combat performance. We were good. Faster, stronger, and a lot smarter than your average grunt. But not quite good enough for the ONI spooks, so they shut down the project and reassigned those of us who wanted to reenlist back to our old branches. They only began to refer to us as Spartan-Is after Red Team and the rest of the Spartan-IIs began taking the field."

"I see." Ellen responded. "So that was why the Captain had you assigned as my protection in the Colonial fleet. The cylons are skilled in infiltration and espionage, so why not send a specialist in counter insurgency warfare."

"And it paid off didn't it? That skin-job definitely didn't see it coming."

"Ah-ha!" Ellen said, lowering her tablet and walking up to the console. "Found the power system controls, I'll initiate a shutdown sequence." She then touched a glyph on the screen and turned it counter-clockwise. The lights inside the compartment died and there was a noticeable slackening of the Scarab's legs.

It all gave Ellen a sense of relief. "That was a lot easier than I thought it'd be." Bishop said.

The lights then immediately turned back on and a line of glyphs scrolled across the holographic screen.

"You just had to say it."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 **MAINTENANCE ACCESS SECTION G-113**

"Serina, open section G-113 and close G-114 behind me." Jerome said, standing in the cramped maintenance access tunnel illuminated by his headlamps and the flickering pilot light of the flamethrower in his hands. "Zero-Four-Two, what's your status?" he then asked as he passed through the open doorway.

" _Entering section G-216 right now. I've spotted some slime left by some of those Hunter eels, and it looks like they've been eating away at some of the electrical systems, but so far, no contacts."_

"Copy that Douglas, keep me informed of anything you find." Jerome finished as he continued to move on through the section.

A few minutes later, he heard Serina's voice over the radio. _"Jerome, I've lost contact with one of our maintenance crews down in auxiliary vehicle maintenance bay nine. Cameras and motion trackers have gone offline as well, but I managed to put the area on lockdown."_ She said worryingly.

Jerome halted. "How many were down there?"

" _Twenty-six in all, I'm afraid."_ Serina dourly replied.

With a thought, Jerome switched channels through his neural lace. "Douglas, you get all that?"

" _Every word, we should double-time it down there before they spread to any other parts of the ship."_

"Agreed. Serina, clear us a path to the bay, and inform Kinsano of the situation, were going to need her hellbringers if we can't contain the outbreak."

" _On it, I've opened all access hatches from here to the bay, hurry."_

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 **STORAGE BAY G-16**

"Okay, that's not right." Bishop said uneasily to Anders who was furiously working at the display to no apparent avail. "Why the heck hasn't it shut down?"

Ellen grunted in frustration. "It still thinks that there's a threat in the area even though the sensors are all clear!"

Ellen was then nearly knocked off her feet as the Scarab came fully back to life and stood up.

"Thinks?" Bishop shouted. "This thing is a machine, it doesn't think, it's programmed." He said, sparking an idea in Ellen's head.

"Maybe not," Ellen said skeptically as she pulled a length of fiberoptic cable from a cargo pocket on her pantleg and plugged it into her tablet and the other end tipped with an adaptive plug into an interface port on the wall.

"We've been treating this thing like it's a machine, but it isn't. This thing is swarming with the same creatures that form the Hunters the Covenant uses. It's a colonial organism and it stands to reason that at least some of the Scarab's functions are governed by them."

Bishop blinked. "You're seriously going to try to communicate with it, an alien, a _Covenant_ alien that not too long ago might have happily blasted us into a molten puddle."

"It hasn't tried to kill us thus far, and unless you have a better plan…" Ellen trailed off as she keyed in her message.

 _I am Professor Ellen Anders, do you understand me? Do you have a name?_

The words quickly transliterated into the triangular Covenant characters upon the holographic screen and Ellen held her breath as several seconds passed.

Ellen almost gasped as a second line of text appeared. "The missive has been recognized by us. We are the whole bestowed the war-title Armiger of Regret's Divine Ambition." She said out loud, not quite believing it herself.

"Holy shit." Bishop cursed, mirroring Ellen's verged disbelief.

Shaking off the shock, Ellen refocused her mind and began typing in another message.

"Hold on, I'm telling it to turn off its weapons." She said as her message appeared on the screen.

 _Armiger, you are aboard our ship, the_ Spirit of Fire _. We need you to deactivate your weapons systems immediately to prevent any further damage that would endanger yourself and others._

"What is it saying?" Bishop asked impatiently.

"Hold on!" Ellen responded. "Total and absolute destruction of the blasphemous Flood infestation has not been finalized, and its threat to our whole persists profanely. The most impure taint must be purged with the utmost fury and righteous force. The whole will be defended with the utmost zeal, our body will never again fall prey to the eternally cursed hunger of the most unholy taint. We will not allow it." She said with a puzzled tone. The words sounded obsessive, and the way it was acting was more like an insect hive responding to a threat.

"I'm going to try to reason with it."

 _You cannot destroy them yourself. You are too big to leave this bay, and further use of the energy cannon will damage the ship, and if_ Spirit of Fire _is destroyed, you will be destroyed with it. We know about the parasite. We are sending soldiers to destroy them right now, please deactivate your weapons._

"We will not." Ellen dictated with clear frustration. "The Flood persists, we must know the infestation is eradicated. Such was the plight of our confinement in conflict with the essentiality of the Flood's eradication that the creation of new wholes was called upon for the task. For, the Flood must be hunted, they must be annihilated to the last, to never again impend upon us."

"It's like it's scared." Bishop said to Ellen's surprise. "When Red Team and the assault force sent to rescue you found the Scarab, the Covenant had abandoned it to those alien creatures. My unit was deployed on Hornets for that mission and I saw this thing _covered_ with tentacles and those little beach-ball buggers. If it weren't for us, they would have eaten this thing alive."

"You think the Scarab, the alien colony's extreme reaction to this whole situation might be built off a traumatic experience?" Ellen said, more of a statement than a question. "That makes some kind of sense. It's been fine down here for four years and only started acting up when the parasite, this Flood, came into range of the Scarab's sensors."

"So now what, now that we've psychoanalyzed a living alien war machine?" Bishop asked.

"We try to stay on its nice side, and we're going to let it work out that stress on exactly what it wants." Ellen said, putting her finger to the switch on her earpiece. "Serina, do you have an approximate location on the alien parasites yet?"

" _Yes… why?"_

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 **MAINTENANCE ACCESS SECTION G-548**

"Serina, I've linked up with Douglas and we're sixty seconds out from the bay, do you have any new intel for us?" Jerome asked as he and Douglas moved briskly through the dark labyrinth of corridors. Though strangely, his temperature gauge had dropped by a significant margin from the average norm.

" _Unfortunately, I still haven't managed to reactivate any sensor systems in the area, so I'm afraid you're going to be going in blind, sorry boys."_

"We've acted on worse intel." Douglas chimed in from behind Jerome.

" _There is one bit of information that I think you should be made aware of. The auxiliary maintenance bay you're headed to, I've been using it as a testing facility for prototype cryogenic weaponry applications."_

"Cryogenic weapons?" Douglas said in a curious tone. "Like that bomb the Shortswords can drop?"

" _Similar in principal, but the mechanisms I've been working on for the past few years while everyone was asleep are significantly more complex. The short of it is, you'll need to be very careful around them, one ruptured canister and armor or not, you'll be a popsicle as brittle as glass._

"Great, so we can't just torch the whole room now." Douglas responded to the unfortunate news.

" _Flamethrowers and high-pressure canisters historically tend to not make good bedfellows."_ Serina remarked humorously.

"We'll deal with it," said Jerome with a determined inflection. "This ship is our home, and those things aren't going to have it."

Moments later they came to the last corridor that led to the darkened bay.

"Serina, where are the lights?" Jerome asked.

" _The primary circuit has been disabled by some means and the backups aren't responding."_

"They cut off the power?" Douglas asked. "How can they cut off the power, they're animals?"

"We move in quiet. Serina, keep trying to get the power back online." Jerome responded before both Spartans killed the pilot lights of their flamethrowers and turned off their headlamps to avoid broadcasting their presence. On feet far too quiet for a person his size, Jerome entered silently. He waited, his motion tracker lifeless, the air devoid of a single sound, and his enhanced vision not detecting a hint of movement.

He blinked his status light on Douglas' HUD to signal him to move up before he quietly placed the flamethrower on the ground and replaced it with the shotgun on his back, then covered Douglas as he did the same.

The bay was almost entirely pitch black, the only lights coming from large, heavily reinforced storage tanks and bits of equipment bearing a chilly blue glow coupled with a cold fog seemingly clinging to them. In spite of this, Jerome could see quite clearly whereas a normal human would have been completely blind. He could see that he and Douglas had come out behind the vehicle maintenance racks which were currently occupied with a six-wheeled variant of the warthog that Jerome didn't recognize. It had a completely enclosed front cabin and a large and complex looking dual mortar in the extended rear.

"Serina, I don't recognize any of these vehicles, and we were trained to operate pretty much everything the UNSC has."

" _Judging by your entry point, I'd say you have run into my pack of Dire Wolves."_

"Dire Wolves?" Douglas asked.

" _My bid to fully replace the M9 Wolverine in its mobile artillery role. I extended the bed of a warthog to accommodate my one of a kind cryo mortar system that I guarantee will stop a covenant ghost dead in its tracks with a single hit. The tusked bullbar in the front I added to dispose of cryogenically incapacitated infantry without causing superficial damage to the body."_

"Let's keep it moving," Jerome said and signaled to move right. While he led and kept his eyes forward, Douglas scanned around, looking for any signs of hostiles, but finding only more bizarre vehicles.

"Are those the Rhinos from the _Pillar of Autumn_? What the heck happened to their turrets?" he asked, seeing that the main turret was now completely absent and replaced with a fixed gun that stretched almost the whole length of the Rhino's massive chassis and had a barrel almost a meter thick. "And over there, are those Bison? I didn't think we had any aboard."

"You sure have been busy Serina." Jerome remarked.

" _Well, I can't take all the credit, Professor Anders has contributed significantly to moving my designs from concept to the prototype stage, especially in recent weeks."_

"Still, can't imagine ONI is going to be too happy about what you did to those Rhinos."

" _I found a much better platform for the plasma cannon they had equipped it with in the Army's M400 Kodiak. I even took the liberty to install several upgrades gleaned from combat field data WE acquired for them. Besides, I needed the Rhino's chassis to mount the super-heavy cryo projector on in case the Scarab we captured ever got uppity. A pity it did before my lovely new Sabertooths were fully operational. Up above, you'll see my Frost Ravens I created from the Nightingale's airframe, it carries a similar cryogenic projector mounted in the chin and concussion missiles under the wings."_

"Fascinating," Douglas noted with disinterest, "-but it doesn't-" he cut off abruptly and a flash of red appeared on the motion tracker. Jerome swung immediately around to find Douglas on his back, holding the mutated claw of an infected crewman at bay with his shotgun jammed between the pincers. He was pinned, but Douglas was far from helpless. Leveraging the strength afforded to him by his armor, Douglas wrenched the butt of his shotgun up into the former crewman's chest where the parasite had imbedded itself, breaking several already spongy ribs but not killing the alien inside, neither was this his intent as the stunned combat form's hold was loosened enough for Douglas to bring up his boot and send the thing flying back into the rear of an unfinished Sabertooth.

It croaked a retched sound as it crumpled momentarily to the floor, leaving a disgusting smattering of green-grey ichor on the vehicle. Jerome quickly fired twice into combat form's chest, destroying the infection form within and leaving the putrid, mutated host to emit a death-gurgle as it sprawled across the floor plating.

Douglas was already back on his feet and both Spartans went back to back in preparation for the counterattack. Jerome turned his headlamps back on at full power, and part of him wished he just hadn't, because there on the far wall, he saw the twisted bodies of the other twenty-five technicians and crewmen. They had bloated, distended torsos, bulging like sweating tumorous growths while their emaciated limbs had shriveled into calcified hooks that grew into gaps in the metal. The creatures began to groan unearthly noises as their bellies trembled disturbingly.

"Douglas!" Jerome called out to his teammate right as the carrier forms ruptured open, spewing dozens upon dozens of smaller infection forms, as well as a new abominable monstrosity. Born as triplets from a single carrier, they were smaller than an average human, scuttling quickly across the bay floor on spiky hind legs and two pairs of muscular arm-tentacles. It had no head to speak of, only a mass of short razor-tipped tentacles and probing antennae like their smaller brethren.

Jerome fired as one leapt through the air, catching it center-mass with extremely destructive results. Another bounded off the wall, narrowly avoiding the fate of the other as Douglas fired. Two of its arm tentacles elastically stretched forth, one wrapping around the body of Douglas' shotgun to then quickly rip it out of his hands while the other wrapped around his shoulder to throw him several meters toward the wall.

Before Jerome could react to this, another came at him, hopping from the top of a Sabertooth's cannon over Jerome's head. Like Douglas, it tried to wrench the Spartan's shotgun out of his hand, but Jerome, having witnessed the attack before held tight and dug his magnetized boots into the deck. His shields flickered from the immense pressure on his bicep while the Flood form speared its hind legs into a section of grated floor plating, creating a tug of war between them.

Jerome relaxed his right arm, letting it get drawn straight toward the creature and giving him a clear aim down the weapon's sights at his attacker. The shotgun barked its fiery breath and the monster fell.

Not wasting a moment, his free hand shot to the pistol at his side and he freed Douglas from the grip of the other trapper form with a quartet of well placed shots.

"Fall back!" Jerome ordered, seeing the oncoming tide of red on his motion tracker. He laid down a series of successive shots across a forty-degree arc, killing several of the insectoids each time. To the right, Douglas was back up on his feet again with his pistol in hand and added to the barrage. The pair performed a fighting retreat against the endless swarm of infection forms, trying to get back to where they had entered. "Serina, there are too many, we're falling back to regroup. Seal the door behind us once we're out."

Though, as he said this that very door that was their only means of escaped shut tight.

"Serina!"

" _It wasn't me!"_ she quickly replied. _"Those creatures on the wall have somehow gotten partial control over bay's systems, I'm locked out!"_

Daunted, but not outdone, Jerome looked for another solution. "Serina, we don't have enough ammo to deal with all of them, is there anything in here we can use?"

"Yes, at the far end of the bay there is a rack of prototype handheld cryo projectors, I had a test scheduled for today so they are primed and operational."

There was just one small problem with that involving the horde of Flood that stood in the Spartans' way.

" _Jerome, its Anders."_ The Spartan heard unexpectedly. _"I heard you might be in a bit of a pickle, but I think I have a solution on the way, just promise me you won't shoot them."_

"Shoot who?" asked Douglas after swatting away a pouncing infection form.

The answer came as a writhing mass of living muscle appeared up through grating under a pair of partly assembled Dire Wolves. The alien eels engulfed the automotive parts and section of armor around the vehicle, turning the objects into the frames of one of the Spartan's most feared enemies, Hunters.

Though it was to the pair's surprise, that the two newly formed Hunters immediately began assaulting the Flood infection forms instead. One swung an arm made from the Dire Wolf's door low into the swarm, splattering a swath of the things while the other brought down an improvised club made from the vehicle's transmission upon one of the trappers with predictable results.

"What the hell?" a bewildered Douglas asked.

"Never mind!" Jerome stated. "Get to the weapons while they're busy with the Hunters." The Spartans moved left to the other maintenance pits opposite the Dire Wolves where the modified Bison sat, and flanking behind them while the Hunters continued to be the rock upon which the Flood crashed upon. A Trapper leaped upon the shoulders of the shield-bearing Hunter, wrapping its tentacles around its shoulders to immobilize it. The Hunter struggled to shake it off, letting out a bellowing call for aid to its bond-brother who hammered the creature off.

Ahead, the two Spartans saw the weapons rack loaded with guns bearing a very close resemblance to the Hellbringers' own NA4 flamethrowers but with some serious modifications to the weapon's body and attached chemical tanks that now bore the same the chilly-blue lights. But before Jerome could reach one of them, another Trapper ambushed him from behind, ensnaring the Spartan around the waist and his right shoulder, that jerked the shotgun out of his hands.

"Jerome!" cried Douglas.

"Go!" Jerome shouted in response then turned to face his attacker as best he could.

Douglas got to the rack, quickly yanking the weapon from the upper level with one hand and the accompanying pack below with the other. Even through his armor, the weapon was cold to the touch, as if it had been sitting atop some frigid peak for several days. When he turned about, he found Jerome in another tug of war, resisting the Trapper's coils as best he could while a small congress of infection forms had broken off from the main mass throwing themselves at the Hunters, sensing the prospect of easier prey.

As different as the purpose of this weapon was compared to a normal flamethrower, the mechanisms were remarkably similar and it only took a second to prime it. The cryo gun had a kick to it Douglas did not expect, thinking it would act more like a ray, but in effect what came out of the barrel was a spray of frigid chemicals held semi-coherent by a central vacuum energy siphon. The icy beam struck the Flood form, instantly freezing its body into a state so brittle, a firm pull by Jerome broke its tentacles off at the shoulder and its legs at the knee, causing the whole torso to fall and shatter upon the floor. Douglas then directed the sub-zero beam at the nearby infection forms, resulting in them freezing solid like macabre ice sculptures.

Jerome threw off the still writhing arms of the Trapper and moved to grab the cryo pack by Douglas, shortly thereafter freezing the severed limbs before moving up to engage the main swarm which the Hunters had done a tremendous job to cut down. The Spartan swept the cryo beam across the swarm still numbering in the dozens. The Hunter with the shield adopted a poised defensive stance, presenting its improvised shield while its brother was seemingly far less cautious and pressed the attack, shattering the frozen infection forms with ardent swings of its club-arm.

"Douglas, the wall." Jerome directed, turning their attention lastly to the disemboweled, but still living carrier forms affixed to the wall. They moved closer and Douglas engaged the once-human blisters with wide sweeps of the weapon's spray. All it took to then destroy them was a single bullet from Jerome's pistol and one by one, they died.

"Serina, all threats eliminated, let's get this bay cleaned up, full hazardous material protocols." Jerome said in a slightly tired voice. They had lost a lot of good people today.

"What about them?" Douglas asked as he warily motioned toward the two Hunters with a nod of his head.

"Let's give them space for now, they don't seem hostile toward us. But if they do start anything, put them on ice."

"Roger that."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

 **0917 HOURS**

 **STORAGE BAY G-16 OBSERVATION ROOM**

Colonel Shaw stood at the window, looking into the bay where the Scarab and now the two Hunters now resided, himself wearing an inscrutable mask that betrayed none of his thoughts while Captain Cutter conversed with Anders and Bishop beside the room's primary console for the cargo crane.

"Now Captain, are you sure the hazmat teams recovered every bit of biomass left by the Flood? With a species this virulent, we can't risk even a microbe surviving, think what it could do to the fleet, what it could do to a planet." Anders said with great emphasis.

In response, Captain Cutter raised his hand in an easing motion as he leaned against the back of the console. "You can relax Anders, I'm taking this threat very seriously. We're going to initiate a level four decontamination sweep on the entire maintenance access system and the affected vehicle bay, there isn't going to be a germ left alive once they're done."

"Good, I hope so." Anders said, brushing an errant strand of hair back.

"Now what about the Hunters and the Scarab?" the Captain asked both them and himself. "Anders, did you get any more useful data out of the Scarab's computers?"

"I've learned that the Hunters, Mgalekgolo, as the Covenant calls them, or just Lekgolo for the individual eels, consume various heavy metals as their diet, which we now have a consistent store of thanks to recent weeks, so keeping them fed shouldn't be a problem. As for the Scarab, I think it will be possible to place it back into hibernation now that what it perceived as its primary threat has been eliminated."

Her words caused Bishop to take on an extremely incredulous expression made all the more skeptical by the cocked arm holding his helmet at his side. "Professor, pardon me, but those things aren't animals or machines you can just lock up. That thing woke itself up." Bishop said, pointing at the window. "Proving it can do whatever it damn well pleases when motivated. And as for the Hunters, they may be the most inhuman things I have ever seen in my life, but any combat veteran on this ship can tell you, they are damn smart."

"I want to talk to it." Shaw said from his place by the window.

"Colonel, would you care to share your thoughts with us?" Captain Cutter asked.

"I'd be delighted Captain," Shaw said as he turned about and then began slowly pacing toward them as he spoke. "What we potentially have standing in that bay, is not only one of the Covenant's most powerful pieces of technology, but possibly first defectors from the Covenant. Professor, you said you communicated with the Scarab, can you do that from here?"

Anders raised an eyebrow but answered nonetheless. "Uh, yes I managed to tap into the Scarab's communication systems and build a link to _Spirit of Fire_. I haven't actually tested it yet, but might as well be now." She said and got into the console's chair. "Serina, get me connected."

"Connection established, miss Anders." Serina answered as the holographic screen came to life.

"Ask it when we found it, why it let us take and then use it to attack its former allies." Colonel Shaw insisted.

"One moment," Anders replied as she typed.

 _Hello Armiger, it's Professor Anders._ She wrote. "Serina, can you plug in some text-to-speech software for me and also transcribe what we say into the translator so I don't have to type everything?"

"Easy as holographic pie, Professor." The AI answered.

"Professor Ellen Anders, our shell's instrumentation no longer perceives the presence of Flood. Has the unholy parasite been expunged?" The Lekgolo colony asked with the computer giving it an androgynous voice that was neither male nor female.

"We think so, but we're performing a full sweep of the ship to be sure." Anders said into the console's microphone, with the computer translating her message.

"A cleansing wind fills us to learn this. These feelings are not so shared by the Mgalekgolo whose spirits are still filled with voracious desire to aid in your mission to purge any remaining taint."

"That won't be necessary at the moment, we have the situation under control. There's someone here who wants to speak to you, his name is Colonel Shaw, he is the commanding officer of all UNSC ground forces aboard the ship."

"What does the Colonel Maxwell Shaw wish to query of us?"

The Colonel stepped closer. "This is Colonel Shaw, I wanted to ask why you allowed our soldiers to operate you when you were commandeered by them. The Covenant has declared all of humanity as heretics, so then why would you provide aid to an enemy against your former allies?"

"The traitorous Covenant abandoned us to the Flood to safeguard their own cowardly selves. A most undignified and tragic death was nigh certain as our fate, and where they cravenly fled, your kind fought with ardent will, shedding your blood to give us liberation from our doom. For that gift, we offer our whole and our shell to purge the Flood and hunt the traitors who had forsaken us then and now."

"And for that we are grateful." Shaw said evenly. "If your offer to join us is genuine, which I do not doubt, you have my word that we will never abandon you like the Covenant did. Both you and the two…" he trailed off, glancing at Anders for assistance.

"Mgalekgolo." She answered.

Shaw cleared his throat. "-will be taken care of to the best of our ability. Do they have names?" he then asked curiously.

There was a pause. "One is slower than the other, it is descended from the colony in the core where machine comes into congress with nerve. This whole shows greater caution and is more methodical than its bond-brother. It has been given the name: Adago Kasa Nomo. The other is descended from the colony that is in control of the plasma turret atop our sacred carapace, and so it is the more belligerent of the two and has a greater eagerness for battle. It has been given the name Rasc Kasa Farro."

"On our behalf and that of humanity, give them our welcome. I'll gladly accept new troops into my regiment, and I'll see that they're properly equipped."

"Then our accord has been struck. Glory to our future battles and woe to our enemies."

"So it has. Anders." Shaw signaled for her to close the link.

For a second, no one said a word. "Serina, Anders," Shaw began as he pulled a Sweet Williams cigar from his right breast pocket and lit it with a stainless steel lighter engraved with the 45th Marine Regiment's emblem. Two small plumes of smoke blew out his nostrils from a long opening drag before he spoke once more bearing a smile of a man enjoying his most favored vice. "-I want you and the engineers to begin reverse engineering any examples of Hunter armor we have aboard, I know we captured some for ONI and I'm now requisitioning it. I want our new _recruits_ down there to be mean, green and looking the part for the upcoming operation. And make sure to get our Scarab a new coat of paint. I won't set one boot on that thing until it's wearing the colors."

A doubtful edge could be seen in Cutter's eyes on an otherwise neutral, if stoic face. "You really think it's wise, Colonel, to be fielding alien soldiers that not too long ago, we were fighting hard against. And that's to say nothing of that Scarab."

"I got to agree with the Captain here, sir." Bishop echoed. "Don't you think those things might be too unpredictable, too dangerous to be around our guys in a combat zone?"

Shaw performed a half-turn with his hands clasped behind his back and a slightly amused sidelong smirk on the corner of his mouth. "I appreciate your assessment, Master Sergeant, but I'd rather see for myself how committed these aliens really are. And if something does happen, Captain." He directed to Cutter. "Then those things will be far away from your ship… and at optimal firing range." He said and then departed.

 **MAY 13 2534 / 1744 HOURS**

 **LONGSWORD 0798 (CUTTHROAT-07)**

 **SAGITTARON LOW ORBIT**

 **HELIOS GAMMA SYSTEM**

"Are we sure about there being a resistance base here, we've been transmitting for almost the entire day." Starbuck said from her place at the copilot's seat, almost forgetting the assault on the cylon outpost earlier that morning.

"Both me and Serina saw the cylon reports saying that they've been tracking multiple Colonial Raptors making FTL jumps in the vicinity of Sagittaron." Sharon said with Starbuck turning around to see her.

"Serina is covering our transmissions as best she can from the cylons, but we don't have forever… And I don't like that we left her and Alice behind on Aquaria." Kara said worryingly.

In response, Sharon tried to put on a face of reassurance. "Serina being linked to the cylon data-stream gives us practically immediate access to everything they're doing, it's the best option we got, Kara, if we're going to get Sam and as many people as we can back to the Fleet." Sharon said. "I'm transmitting on all covert Colonial frequencies, the cylons never cracked those and given the presence of Raptors, the chances are that there's a Colonial officer in the group or maybe even leading them."

Warlock chose then to speak up with a mouth full of food from the chicken curry MRE held in his hands. "They probably think it's all a trick." He swallowed and then continued eating. "I mean, they've been down there for the better… or worse," he corrected, "-part of a year with the cylons dogging at their heels. Fuck, that'd make me paranoid."

"Gods, would you chew with your mouth closed, you animal! How the hell does Kick even stand to be around you?" Kara scorned half-jokingly. "And for the sake of your dignity, if you're going to curse in our language, then at least curse properly, it's pronounced _frak_."

"They mean the same thing, what's the big deal? Hell, they even sound the same." Warlock replied, smiling purposefully with yellow curry sauce staining his teeth.

"It makes you sound like a dumbass." Kara chuckled, echoed by Sharon in the back.

"Funny, that's what we've been saying about you, like all you Colonials sound like smartass kids saying fake curses to avoid being sent to the principal's office."

To this, Kara cackled heartily as her head fell back into the firm rest. Frak, how'd she not thought of that herself?

In a purposely idiotic voice, Warlock spoke again. "Man, Mr. Johansen is such a mean fraker, I swear I'm gonna tell him to go frak himself, you know what I mean, like for re-"

"Whoa, wait, wait, wait!" Sharon shouted. "I'm getting something, a transmission from somewhere in super-low orbit. It's a hail." She said with some surprise.

Starbuck shot up from the slouched position she had fallen back into. "Well frak, let's go! Send it up to my station."

UNKNOWN CRAFT / PLEASE IDENTIFY

She read the words on the screen, praying this was the real deal, and the look on her face mirrored her feelings as she wrote her response.

CAPTAIN KARA THRACE / S/N: T01-392-760 / BATTLESTAR GALLACTICA / CODE VERIFICATION: BS75-131-745-003-421/C183 / RESPOND WITH CODES

"Come on, come on." She whispered nervously while chewing on the tip of her thumbnail.

CFI-SG-892-422-600-111/A038

"Confirming code authentication." Sharon said with cautious hope as she ran the transmission against the Colonial Fleet codebook downloaded to the Longsword's computer. "Starbuck… it's real."

Kara sighed in relief. "Thank the Gods!"

"Starbuck, you can thank them when we're safe and sound back on the Spirit. Focus on saying 'hi' first." Warlock lightly chastised.

"Right, sending coordinates for rendezvous. Warlock, think you can get us here without alerting any of the patrols?" came the challenge from Kara with a goading smile, to which Warlock scoffed.

"Please. You know these toasters got nothin' on me."

 **\\\\\\\\\\\O**

Around twenty minutes after they arrived at the rendezvous, a Colonial Raptor appeared on sensors. And under Sharon's instructions, was told to dock at the hatch on the top of the vessel.

A thick sound resonated against the hull as the Raptor's magnetic seal anchored it to the Longsword like a fat remora upon the head of a stingray.

The three of them stood, hopeful, but also cautious. Months into the cylon occupation of the Colonies, there was no telling what kind of people they were going to meet when they came down that ladder.

"You should probably get your helmet on and polarize the visor."Kara suggested to Sharon. "Let's save that little surprise once we move past the 'not shoot each other' phase."

"Right," Sharon agreed earnestly, not keen on getting shot again like Helo did to her when he found out on Caprica.

Outside the hatch, the hollow hiss of the seal pressurizing could be heard, and Kara placed her hand on her sidearm in caution. There then came a knock, sounding like someone stomping their boot against the hatch.

"Open it." She told Warlock, who then pressed a switch on Sharon's console.

The hatch parted open, and now nothing stood in the way of the crews of the two ships. A pregnant pause lasted a couple seconds before a thought crossed Starbuck's mind from her time with Sam's group of resistance fighters.

"Go Panthers!" she shouted the name of her favorite Pyramid team.

"… Archers aim to win!" came a reply in a deep male voice.

Soon after, two men descended the ladder, one a tall and roguish with an unkempt mane of hair, giving the appearance of a man who'd served hard time or lived a harsh life. The other was less so in many ways, but carried himself less intensely, if more professionally and stunk of military intelligence the moment Kara looked into his eyes.

 _ **Introducing Jason Momoa and Clark Gregg**_

The larger man looked ready to pull a weapon hidden under his thick wool-lined jacket, the other, the Spook simply stood, unfazed by the possibility of a firefight breaking out.

"Those aren't Colonial Uniforms, and this isn't a Colonial ship, who are you?" he asked impersonally.

"Captain Kara Thrace of the Battlestar _Galactica_. Warlock?" she prompted.

"I'm Lieutenant Ward Breckenridge of the United Nations Space Command ship: _Spirit of Fire_ , this is my copilot," he said motioning a hand to Sharon. "Ensign Sophia Nascimento. We're from Earth, the Thirteenth Tribe."

The larger man snorted. "That's ancient mythology, there's no Earth. You're a damned a liar."

"It's true." Kara refuted. "We have a fleet, two battlestars and a few dozen civilian ships that managed to get away when the cylons attacked the Colonies. We ran into a ship of the Thirteenth Tribe a month ago, and now they want to help get any remaining survivors off the Colonies before we head off to their territory."

"How'd you find out about us?" asked the Spook.

"We have our own AIs," Warlock answered, to Kara's concern over revealing that to their prospective allies so soon. "Smarter and minus the psychotic tendencies of the cylons. We infiltrated one of their outposts and got her into their network, which lead us to you."

The Spook's face shifted slightly. "Your lying, maybe not about that but you're hiding something."

Kara grew a scowl often worn when dealing with superior officers. "Says the guy who hasn't even offered his name." she said reproachfully.

"Major Seth Gideon, Colonial Fleet Intelligence. This is Jan Yengzev." He said, pronouncing the first name with a Y-sound. "Now who really is your friend in the helmet?"

Warlock glanced sideways at Starbuck knowingly, and she met it before returning to the Spook's and held out a pointed finger into the air in statement.

"Don't shoot her. She defected."

Sharon removed the helmet, and almost expectedly, Gideon's bodyguard, Jan, tried to draw a handgun on her. Starbuck and Warlock who had been preparing for the eventuality, had their magnums on the man before he could pull it from behind his back.

"Drop it!" Kara commanded, to which Jan scowled deeply at being beaten to the draw.

"Why the FRAK do you have a canner onboard!" he roared defiantly.

Warlock clicked off the safety. "Put it on the ground or we put you on the ground, tough guy."

The man looked ready to rip Warlock's throat out, but the threat seemed to be enough, and he tossed over his weapon, a beefy revolver with an elongated cylinder for illegal high-powered rounds.

"Defected?" asked Gideon, unphased as if the threat of imminent injury or death wasn't present at all.

"Yeah," Sharon answered.

Starbuck picked up the forfeited pistol while Warlock covered her. "Without her, we never would have known about that outpost in the first place. You have any more questions, you can take them up with Admiral Adama and Captain Cutter. Now do you want to get out of the Colonies or what?"

Gideon hummed with a light, appraising smile at Sharon. "Interesting. Fine, Captain, I believe you. That'll get you through the door."

"Through the door?" asked Warlock.

"We'll take you back to our base to discuss matters further," Gideon said to Starbuck and then looked to Sharon. "She'll have to come too. Troy will want to see this for himself."

"Whoa, hold it right there, Spook." An incensed Warlock spoke up. "You're not calling the shots on my goddamn bird, this is _our_ recon mission and _you guys_ are not in charge of a damn thing. We're coming to see if your sorry asses are worth saving."

"We didn't survive this long by taking risks, Lieutenant. Commander Troy will want a briefing by Captain Thrace in person."

Warlock scoffed. "Well, tell him he can shove it up his ass and pack it in with a-"

"It's alright, Warlock, I'll go." Kara cut in, albeit with a great deal of hesitation painting her voice.

"What about her?"

A sigh of reluctance and an uneager face preempted Sharon's reply. "Fine, I'll come. But I'm not being locked in another fraking prison cell." She answered to Gideon pointedly.

"Agreed, but you'll be under armed guard. Both of you." Gideon said.

"Fine, whatever. Let's get going." Starbuck responded and both she and Sharon began toward the ladder. "Warlock, if we're not back in two hours, I want you to scrub the mission and jump back to _Spirit of Fir_ e, tell the captain that there's no one worth saving on Sagittaron."

Getting closer, the thuggish Jan, held out his hand for his pistol to be returned while bearing a snidely smug face.

Starbuck stopped and then handed the gun to Sharon, much to Jan's displeasure. "If he tries anything, shoot him."

Sharon took the offered weapon and cocked the hammer. "Won't be hard to miss with him."

Starbuck climbed aboard first, keeping her M6 out and ready just in case Gideon brought along any party crashers, but thankfully, the Raptor was empty. Gideon and Jan followed thereafter with Sharon bringing up the rear. Kara took the copilot's seat, not wanting to miss any little tricks Gideon might have hidden. Anyone from grunt to pilot knew well that you never trusted a Spook. Because to them, you were nothing more than an expendable asset to either the mission, or possibly their own interests. There was nothing worse than an officer with political ambitions.

Gideon took the pilot's seat, and shortly thereafter, the Raptor decoupled from the Longsword and took off toward Sagittaron.

The rocky world looked harsher than usual to Kara, even at this distance and despite the effects of the nuclear attacks having subsided months ago. Perhaps it was just knowing what had happened that tainted its image or the other details of Sagittaron's tumultuous past on top of it. It wouldn't matter much longer though. Soon, Kara hoped, they'd be able to get everyone out of the Twelve Colonies and on their way to Earth. It wouldn't be the same. Hell, what would ever be the same anymore? Kara thought.

In spite of that disheartening thoughts, Kara remained hopeful that they would get to Earth, that there they would find a new beginning. Captain Cutter was giving her the chance that not even the Old Man and the President considered. And for that, she wasn't going to disappoint him. Already, before she and Sharon left the cylon outpost on Aquaria, Serina had identified a cylon mobile shipbreaking yard over by Scorpia next door. She supposed the cylons found it funny putting a shipbreaking yard on the site where the storied shipyards had once stood since before the First Cylon War. Recycling the wrecks of destroyed Colonial ships the cylons had destroyed helplessly and without pity. However, if there were any surviving FTL drives from the wrecks, that is where the cylons would keep them, at least according to Sharon. Depending on how things went here, the next stop on the tour would be there to grab some recon photos before heading to Caprica in search of a factory relatively untouched by the cylons where they might find the FTL manufacturing data Cutter wanted. Serina got them a couple possible leads on that front that they'd check out in time.

Kara committed the numbers to memory as she watched Gideon input the jump coordinates and begin the spin-up sequence on the FTL drive.

"You're going to want to hold on, the transition can be jarring where we're jumping to." Gideon warned with a disturbingly pleasant smile.

A second later, the Raptor jumped and the craft was jostled heavily, and Kara almost lost her composure, gripping her magnum tight, half expecting to be jumped from behind by Jan, but wasn't surprisingly. She took her eyes off Gideon to look out the Raptor's canopy, finding it strangely darker than before.

"What the hell, did we jump to the night-side of the planet?" she asked

"Not quite." Gideon answered as he throttled down the Raptor's landing thrusters, and light from below began to filter up until Starbuck could make out the vast, natural walls of stone around them.

"It's a cave?" Starbuck realized as a vast city-scape appeared from below on the cave floor, giving her better definition of the space around. The cave was tall, standing nearly a kilometer from floor to ceiling in an inverted turnip shape and stretching more than a kilometer down in a broad slope. Laying on the slope, much to Starbuck's astonishment, was a shantytown of a sort she'd never seen. Layers of structures built over each other and held together by a bird's nest of scaffolding with some of the sprawl reaching up along the walls where it was less of a vertical face. A single bare road, if it could be called that, split down the middle, leading up to a large compound of concrete buildings crowned by a set of four landing pads atop its core cylindrical building inside a courtyard bordered by a tall wall of various cobbled together materials from corrugated steel to chain-link fencing.

"This entire complex has been built inside the remnants of an ancient magma chamber dried out millennia ago." Gideon said. "We're currently under the Olympian mountain range north of the Dromos subcontinent, if you're wondering."

"How many people are down here?" she asked.

"Over six-thousand." Jan answered in a less-threatening and more somber voice as he peaked through the doorway.

"A large portion of them are Sagittaran," said Gideon. "But we managed to pull a lot off of Picon, Tauron, Scorpia, Leonis, anywhere with half-decent fallout shelters or isolated communities too small for the cylons to waste a nuke on. We also managed a few good rescue operations on cylon concentration camps on Canceron and Aerilon where the occupation force was less focused. Early on we got four whole crews off oil rigs on Aquaria, along with sixty-some engineers on a planetside repair yard for Trans-Helios Star Freight. They helped improvise the majority of the buildings out there to deal with the increased population as well as move up the timetable on repairs to our tickets out of here."

Gradually, Kara began making out more and more people traversing the virtual town constructed inside the cave. Here and there stood a make-shift greenhouse or small water tower, the buildings growing more sophisticated the closer they got to the central compound. Atop the largest building, a round keg-shaped thing sat a set of ten landing pads which Gideon was steering toward.

"How did you make all this in just a few months?" Kara asked in disbelief at the complexity of what she was seeing.

"We didn't, the majority of what you see was built more than a decade ago."

Kara looked back at the CFI Major with a raised eyebrow. "What, is this some super-bunker Colonial Fleet made and forgot to tell anyone?"

"You'll be given the whole picture soon, just be patient." Gideon answered as he landed the Raptor on top of the main compound and began cycling it down while armed security teams appeared out of two adjacent stairwells. "Mind if I get out first so they know not to shoot you or your cylon friend?"

"Be my guest."

Gideon hit the door release and stood, followed by Starbuck. "It's okay, they're with us!" Gideon shouted to the half-circle of armed marines mixed in with plain-clothes militia who hesitantly lowered their rifles.

"I'd like that back now." Jan said to Sharon with eyes motioned to his pistol. "G-man's word or not, they see a toaster with a gun, they'll put you down." He said with subtle intimidation in his voice. Though, not threatened in the slightest at the edged words, Sharon reluctantly returned the weapon to him.

Gideon and Starbuck left first, then Sharon, and lastly Jan who walked out like a buck on parade.

"This way. Jan, with me." Gideon ordered, demonstrating who was really in charge, though it seemed to Starbuck that Gideon didn't seem to care for the game of jockeying for alpha male. He seemed to be a man who naturally exuded an air of authority, living and breathing his rank day in and out as naturally as one would wear clothing in that wholly intelligence Spook way.

Starbuck followed Gideon through the compound under an armed escort towing behind, eventually ending up at one of several large cargo elevators that rode the cave wall up into the ceiling. Wordlessly, they entered and then proceeded up.

Looking through the chain-link cage, it was shocking to believe that so many people had been living in a cave for this long. Judging just by what she had seen from the Raptor, conditions weren't good. She wondered about how they had been feeding so many people under these conditions and where they were getting their water from, as well as a plethora of other questions she wanted answered.

The elevator passed up into the cave's ceiling, moving past three sublevels of a separate part of the facility looked to be carved out of the rock with only the barest forms of structural supports, open piping and uneven, harsh lighting from construction lamps. Soon though, they passed all of it and the elevator did not stop for almost another whole minute.

A loud metallic clamor of electromagnets locking the elevator in place as it slowed to a stop signaled the end of the all too silent and answerless journey. The chain-link gate withdrew upward in a noisy clatter a moment before a larger metallic bulkhead door parted open under the glare of dusty yellow strobe lights.

Kara let out a frustrated breath from her nose, turning back toward Gideon who stood with his arms clasped behind his back and face wearing that infuriatingly intelligent smile.

"Okay, I've had just enough of the Spook treatment, Major. I'm here on orders to find out how many people are left in the Colonies, and you people are way too organized for only a few months to have passed by since the attack, so I need some answers now!"

"And I appreciate the effort being taken to find us, I really do." Gideon answered. "But the complexity of our situation here requires, I believe for you to see things for yourself before I explain them." He then motioned to the open door, and for a moment, Kara thought she's stepped through a portal.

She walked out onto a hangar deck not unlike the one on _Galactica_. The main difference between them being that the launch tubes were placed at an angle on the outward wall, rather than a straight line. Throughout the deck, it was filled with people going about their work under utility lights strung around the place. Down in the maintenance pits sat Vipers, mostly 's but a lot of 's and even some old Mk.I's. Kara didn't know what to say

"You are in the Battlestar _Perseus_ ," Gideon said as the rest walked out behind Kara. "An old Artemis-class battlestar mothballed five years after the Cylon War and put into storage at the Mount Pyrrha Aerospace Maintenance and Reserve Facility in the Parnassus Valley where we are now. They've been trying to get this, along with an old Atlas-class Carrier and an old Marine transport ship operational for the past thirteen years."

Kara turned back to him, confounded by it all. "Who?"

He pointed to her feet where she Colonial Seal ought to have been. Instead, she found the sigil of Sagittaron ringed with the words ' _Sagittaran Democratic Union._ '

"The remnants of the SDU."

It took Kara a second to collect her thoughts as she tried to overcome the rush of emotions ranging from surprise to outrage and betrayal. "The SDU! The terrorist assholes that fought _against_ Colonial Fleet during the Cylon War? Are you fraking kidding me?! Are you fraking kidding me?" she repeated, drawing the attention of a large number of people around her.

Gideon looked to his right at the assembling crowd of maintenance crew. "All of you get back to work, this is my business." He said and then turned back to Kara, fixing her with a serious stare. "I understand your concerns, Captain, both myself and Colonial Fleet Intelligence felt likewise when we started getting reports on a possible SDU resurgence, but the situation has changed drastically in the past few months. Of that, I'm sure you're aware." He paused to allow her a reply, but Starbuck honestly found trouble holding onto her initial outrage. After all, here was a Colonial Intelligence Spook amongst a terrorist organization, that they hadn't drawn and quartered him was remarkable enough to give her pause.

"Go on." She said with significant reservations.

"They now call themselves the Deucalionites after the ancient myth of Deucalion and the flood. I was tasked by Colonial Fleet Intelligence to infiltrate the group as a double-agent, someone seemingly sympathetic to their cause for about two years before the cylon attack. However, instead of trying to force Sagittaron's succession from the Articles of Colonization, their aim was to depart the Colonies altogether in an act inspired by the Thirteenth Tribe's exodus from Kobol in the Book of Pythia. To find a habitable planet the Deucalionites call Lykoreia and found a new society on it. But before Colonial Fleet could shut this whole operation down, the cylons happened. Given the situation, I decided to instead assist them in going through with their plan. I came forward to Commander Troy about my true loyalties and managed to convince him to get out there and rescue as many people as we could and bring them with us on the journey. Until you showed up today, I thought we were the only humans left alive." He finished with a smile that might have been genuine.

Starbuck simmered as she listened to Gideon's explanation with her hands cocked on her hips. To say she didn't like it, would be a gross understatement of the personal resentment she felt. She repressed it, trying to stay focused on the mission, her goal to save Sam on Caprica.

"You said you wanted me to meet him, right? Commander Troy?"

"That was the plan, Captain. Unless you have any objections you'd like to voice now, I was about to take you to the CIC."

Starbuck let silence be her begrudging answer.

"Then let's get going." Gideon then turned and began walking, leaving Starbuck and the others to follow.

Soon, they got to the bridging structure between the flight pod and the rest of the ship. Unlike the Jupiter classes like the _Galactica,_ that meshed the structural arms of the flight pod with crew passages and cargo elevators, the three structural arms of the old Artemis battlestars had no such amenities. Cargo, crew and whatever else needed to go from and to the flight pods did so through a single tubular structure that jutted out horizontally from the inner side of the flight pod and into the main body of the battlestar. This ship was to _Galactica_ , in technological comparison to what _Galactica_ was to _Pegasus_. The group stepped upon an open-air tram used to convey cargo to and from the flight pods, the only safety measure it bore being a handrail and two waist-level gates on either side. One of the guards moved to the aged control panel, working the old analogue controls and gradually, with great initial complaint from the motors, it began moving.

"What's with the construction lights all over the place?" Kara asked abrasively, wanting to think of something else than the ugly shadow of the SDU rearing its ugly head within her life once more.

"The ship's hull is thick enough to hide the heat signatures of everyone here," Gideon said above the harsh screech of the tram's wheels. "but if we used the ship's generators to run anything, the cylons would immediately take notice of the electromagnetic spike in the area. Instead we've been getting the electricity from geothermal power piped up from down below."

"Smart," Sharon commented.

"You lost family to the SDU, didn't you?" Gideon asked Kara suddenly. "Most people don't like them, but judging by your reaction, I'd say it was something more personal." Kara, who was smart enough to figure he reasoned that out with what was probably some kind of CFI psych training, found his attempt at acting human all the more impersonal and abrasive. It was kind of funny that Sharon, a cylon, acted a great deal more human than this Spook did.

"My mom lost both of her older brothers to the SDU during the war, which didn't help her mental state when I was growing up."

"I take it that must have been hard." He replied with a sympathetic tone, that again, came off as manipulative to her.

"Can we keep the subject on Commander Troy? What can you tell us about him?"

Kara's harsh tone seemed to give the Spook pause. "Grayson Troy was born into one of the few wealthy families on Sagittaron. His father, Erasmus Troy, was the co-chair of the Acheron Resourcing Corporation and a well-known philanthropist on Sagittaron. That sympathy toward less fortunate individuals was passed down to Grayson, and he participated in several noteworthy protests from his early teens to his mid-twenties, including the one that lead up to the bombing of the Colonial Trade Center in Tawa by Tom Zarek of the Sagittaran Freedom Movement. Agents at the time investigated into if Grayson had any ties to the SFM, but their finds were inconclusive." The tram arrived at the other end of the line, and Gideon paused again as they disembarked into the main body. Looking around, Starbuck could see the inadequacies of the Artemis' old design. Less structurally sound rectangular hallways with sparser structural reinforcements spoke to how much more of a beating the Jupiter-class battlestars of the era could take. And considering how far things had progressed since then… well, Starbuck certainly wouldn't want to be on board if this thing ever went toe-to-toe with a modern basestar.

"He later enrolled into the Colonial Fleet Academy on Picon and performed well enough that the top brass decided to focus their efforts elsewhere. Grayson graduated and two years later, was given command of a patrol squadron attached to the Sixty-Second Battlestar Group under Rear Admiral Cain. Troy captained the Berzerk-class Carrier _Talos_ and held command over two corvettes in the patrol squadron. For four years he servedwith distinctionin countering the smuggling operations of the Ha'la'tha crime syndicate."

"What happened?" Sharon asked.

"The _Talos_ came across the freighter _Jerry's Venture_. The crew were illegally transporting undocumented Sagittaran migrants, hiding them among their cargo of cattle bound for Gemenon. When Troy found out, he rounded up all twenty-one crew members of the ship, including Captain Jerry Nikolos… and then threw them all out the airlock."

"Frak," Starbuck winced, knowing how unpleasant a way to go that was.

Gideon continued. "After returning to port over Caprica, Admiral Cain found out what he'd done and tried to have him arrested. But Troy had already fled, eventually linking up with the Deucalionites, which was what actually gave me my first lead to them."

"How did these people even find this place?" Sharon asked, coming up alongside Starbuck and Gideon after being mostly silent for most of the journey.

"Their leader was Eric Sinclair, a geologist and former engineer aboard an SDU cruiser, although, I didn't find out about that until I had infiltrated the Deucalionites. After the defeat of the SDU, Sinclair quietly resumed his former line of work for the next few decades. He was on a survey of a nearby cave system for Acheron Resourcing to see if there were any substantial traces of valuable ores. Instead, Sinclair found a passage into the magma chamber you saw below and plotted it to be directly under the Colonial Fleet storage facility in the Parnassus Valley. Along with some old friends from the SDU days, they began to set forth on their venture to steal the Battlestar _Perseus_ and whatever other ships they could to depart the Colonies for a new world. And after the very public defeat of the SDU, Sinclair's group decided to act with the utmost secrecy to avoid Colonial Fleet's attention, quietly approaching disenfranchised Sagittarans selectively, only initiating them into the organization once a more senior member was certain of their commitment to the cause. Troy made for a natural fit into their plans, a trained officer who knew how to operate a small fleet and was sympathetic to their cause."

"But I'm guessing Sinclair isn't around any more or else you would be taking us to see him." Starbuck inferred.

"Sinclair was in Tawa when the bombs fell. Troy assumed command in his absence." Gideon replied evenly.

"How noble of him." Remarked Starbuck with deep sarcasm.

The CFI officer turned his head back on Starbuck, his sharp eyes locking onto hers. "More like lucky. Sinclair never would have agreed to help _anyone_ from the other Colonies. Contrary to his beliefs, Troy knows that just because someone isn't Sagittaran, doesn't make them the enemy. It rankles the remaining old-guard, but they need him too much to incite a mutiny, and I've been making sure on my end that it stays that way."

A sardonic feeling welled up in Kara's chest, raising a smirk to her lips. "So despite being a dog of Colonial Fleet, you're one they can't put down out of spite."

If Gideon took that as a compliment, he didn't show it. "My unique skillset affords me importance to this base's ongoing operation. I keep things organized and on schedule in addition to making sure no one here does something incredibly stupid that could expose us to the cylons." He smiled in a thin snake-like way, the first genuine expression of joy Starbuck had seen from the man. "Ironic, I spend years trying to find and expose this place, and now I'm doing all I can to make sure it stays hidden."

"You mentioned that you were rescuing people off the other Colonies, what about Caprica? I got stranded there a while back and ran into a group up in the mountains north of Delphi."

Gideon shook his head. "Sorry Captain, cylons are guarding the air around Caprica too closely. We tried sending Raptors early on, but none ever made it back. The cylons seem to be using the planet as their de-facto capital."

"Damn it, there were at least fifty people left back there!"

"We did what we could," he said defensively and with a short-lived bite of desperation. "Before the attack there were only thirteen-hundred Sagittarans down in that cave. I think we've done a hell of a job bringing back as many as we could and making sure they didn't start murdering each other while stuck in a cave without daylight for months on end."

An empathetic sigh released from Kara's chest cooled her attitude. "Sorry, it's just I made them a promise I would come back for them. It's why I came back."

"Well, I'm glad you did, for our sakes." Gideon said again as his emotional defenses shored back up. "I have to admit, the plan we had before probably would have ended up with all of us dead."

Not a minute later, they entered the CIC, answering the question Starbuck held in her mind of which production block this ship was from. The early Artemis battlestars had old-fashioned bridges on the front slope of the bow, making them easy prey for the cylons at the start of the war. All subsequent production blocks moved the ship's command center to the core of the bow structure and becoming the norm for all Colonial warships from then on out.

The Persus' CIC was smaller than that of _Galactica_ , but larger than Pegasus'. It was round and ringed half around the outside wall with rows of computer stations, broken up only by three doorways placed at the back and sides, as well as an aged tactical plot just to her left as she walked in. A massive curved viewing screen took up the front wall of the CIC, nothing more than a black sheet due to the current lack of power. Before it sat a sunken pit arranged in a one-third circle with a second smaller row sat slightly higher behind it, culminating with a wide audacious-looking pulpit that lorded over the entire CIC. There stood two men beside an aged command and control station that looked retrofitted onto the structure.

Both men turned when Gideon lead Starbuck and Sharon into the room.

"The rest of you, post here while I take them up to the Commander. Jan, you too, I don't need to break up another fight between you and Colonel Kirby right now." Gideon ordered to Jan and the guards, the former grunting in a half meant show of intimidation like a dog growling but not baring its teeth.

An awkward, too-long walk followed before any words could be said, as in order to get up to the pulpit, they had to go down into the pit and around to the other side and back up another set of stairs to get up to the pulpit. There at the top, Troy and Kirby were waiting, staring at them as they came up. One was an older man in his early forties with a closely shaved head and a short salt and pepper beard. He notably wore a brown rawhide jacket decorated with gold embroidery around the cuffs in two concentric rings as well as golden olive wreaths laid into the jacket's shoulder pads. Starbuck remembered seeing those things in her high school textbooks, it was part of the Tauron Naval uniform from before the signing of the Articles of Colonization. Where the hell did he get that old thing?

"Commander, Lieutenant Colonel," Gideon greeted. "This is Captain Thrace from the Battlestar _Galactica_."

"Yeah? And what's with the toaster and why isn't her brain being fried downstairs?" asked the other man who strangely wore a Colonial uniform.

A sour sideways look turned upon the face of the first man indirectly aimed at the other. "Excuse the Lieutenant Colonel's attitude, Captain, we've been under a lot of stress for the past eight months. I'm Commander Troy, and this is Lieutenant Colonel Milo Kirby of Colonial Fleet." He said tiredly with a gesturing motion of his free arm while he leaned over the station with the other.

 _ **Introducing Paul Blackthorne as Commander Grayson Troy and Alan Tudyk as Lieutenant Colonel Milo Kirby**_

"Sir," Kara said and saluted casually, which Kirby returned with equal informality.

"You'll have to forgive Kirby's attitude, he's on loan from Commander Kushan along with the Viper pilots she sent to help train ours up. Needless to say, a lot of people here don't care much for Colonial Fleet. Don't care much for me either, to tell you the truth, but frak'em, right?" he said with a friendly toothy smirk.

Starbuck's brow furrowed. "Wait, who is Commander Kushan?"

Troy's eyes moved to Major Gideon. "You didn't tell her?"

"Didn't get that far in the time it took to get here." Gideon replied.

"Then it sounds like she only knows half the story, but we'll get to that in a minute. Now why is this cylon standing in my CIC?"

"She says she's a defector, sir." Said Gideon, as looks of skepticism sprouted in response.

"It's true," Starbuck added, though her feelings toward this Sharon were as of yet… unresolved to say the least. "I'll give you the details later, but the short of it is, we never would have found you guys without her. She saved _Galactica_ when we got infected with a cylon computer virus and even saved the Colonial President."

"President Adar is alive?" Gideon asked.

"No," Sharon answered. "Education Secretary Laura Roslin was appointed after all other members of the Colonial Government died in the attacks."

In response, Troy waved his hand in a halting motion. "Woah, woah, there. Stick to broad strokes. How many ships do you have? How many people made it out? How many other warships do you have available?"

"We have a civilian fleet of just over seventy ships carrying roughly forty-nine-thousand survivors. In the fleet, we have two battlestars, the _Galactica_ and the _Pegasus_."

" _Pegasus_ , is Admiral Cain still alive?" Troy asked with a hint of worry. Knowing that he'd been part of Cain's battlestar group, he probably didn't make a friend of her when he went AWOL.

"No," Starbuck answered somewhat solemnly. "She was assassinated by an escaped cylon prisoner shortly after _Pegasus_ found us."

"Good, I'd rather not get lynched by her after surviving this long against the fraking cylons."

Starbuck swallowed as she prepared to speak. Of all the news, this was easily the most unbelievable. "There's one more ship, we encountered it just a few weeks ago purely by accident. Its name is _Spirit of Fire_ and it's from Earth."

Kirby's eyebrows raised. "Earth, the long-lost tribe of Kobol? They're real?" he asked. "You mean the crap the Sagittarans have been espousing at me for the last six months wasn't hogwash?"

"The craft we intercepted wasn't of any Colonial design." Gideon interrupted once more. "Not cylon either, the thing was practically invisible on DRADIS for something its size."

"Good Lords, I'll never hear the end of this." Kirby muttered briefly to himself. "What kind of ship is it?" asked the Lieutenant Colonel.

"She's a support ship and carrier for ground forces, but compared to anything Colonial Fleet had, the thing's a damned dreadnaught. _Spirit of Fire_ is finishing up a major refit of _Galactica_ right now and the old girl will be meaner than _Pegasus_ by the time it's all done. Together, she and the Spirit have tanked seven basestars total."

Troy nodded appreciatively at the news. "That's good to hear."

"How many ground pounders is this ship carrying?" Kirby cut in, his skeptical tone still remaining, but less pronounced.

"Full marine regiment with heavy armor support and an air wing, plus a battalion of shock troopers and two more battalions of army to back that up. And we still got the marines on _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_." She spoke with confidence.

Kirby turned his attention toward Troy, holding an anxious look between cautious and hopeful. "What do you think? Between them and Commander Kushan, this might be the only real chance of getting out of here."

"Okay, time out." Starbuck interrupted. "Just who the hell is Commander Kushan?"

A short breath left Troy's mouth. "You're right, Captain, I'm sorry. Here, I'll explain everything…"

* * *

 **Author's Note: So a lot of stuff is happening, and fast too. In that first scene with Cally, I wanted to recreate that tension filled first time where you entered the Pillar of Autumn's maintenance access ways in the original Halo: Combat Evolved and you worried that just around the corner would be an Elite ready to smash your head in with its plasma rifle. I hope everyone was pleasantly surprised by my inclusion of the Scarab and all the other bits like the SDU reveal at the end. If you thought it was just going to be Sam's little gang on Caprica, you should have known I couldn't leave it at such a simple bro-fist humanity F-yeah level. I like my politics nice and full of competing factions and ideologies like a good BSG fan does. What does this mean for Admiral Adama or Tom Zarek? We will see. As for the new UNSC vehicles I created, the Dire Wolf and the Sabertooth, I came up with them in terms of how they would fit into Halo Wars 2's gameplay. The Dire Wolf would act similarly to how the Wolverine performed using its missile barrage capability in the first Halo Wars to attack ground targets, however, I gave it a mortar to limit its rate of fire. Speed-wise, it would be slower than a warthog, having a lot of extra weight and armor, but would maintain the ramming special ability without the drawback of self-inflicted damage thanks to the ram in front. It would be highly effective versus infantry and moderately effective versus vehicles, but completely vulnerable to air attack. Moving on to the Sabertooth, I felt the Rhino was highly underutilized in the first Halo Wars, being available exclusively in the campaign for just two levels. But being essentially a Cobra with a Wraith mortar, it did make sense balancing-wise to cut it as a buildable unit. The Sabertooth is my effort to make the vehicle work in a role all its own now that we have the awesome Kodiak to fulfill its old purpose. Well, in the Guiding Fire timeline,** _ **Spirit of Fire**_ **wouldn't have the Condor gunship to act as the Scarab's UNSC counterpart. And to be honest, I was never keen on the Condor gunship given how it meant the Vulture was now nerfed to hell. So my idea for the Sabertooth is thus; an ambush tank meant to fire across the map with a cryo beam capable of freezing any units that cross the line of fire similar to how the cryo bomb worked in the first game. When in lockdown mode, the Sabertooth can be used as an area denial vehicle, cutting off paths, or greatly hindering inbound reinforcements, or to ambush enemy formations with the assistance of a friendly unit who can act as a spotter. The beam itself would only cause slightly more damage than a Frost Raven's main weapon and stay active for only 10-15 seconds before needing to undergo a three second recharge. Not powerful by itself, but instrumental when it comes to shifting the momentum of a battle in your favor, turning the enemy's attack into your counterattack using your friendly units or leader abilities, which is why I'm calling it the Sabertooth and not the Woolly Rhino, it's a pack hunter. Speaking of hunters, the idea of the Whaler Shark had absolutely nothing to do with this:**

 ** **thepunchlineismachismo. com** /archives/comic/theyre-basically-just-moray-eels**


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